200 Days of Our Lives
by cryptonomicon
Summary: Two hundred days and moments that we'll always remember, but there isn't a day we won't remember, because it was spent with you. A continuation of "100 Words I Would Say".
1. Set 1: Provided by xTKx

-Oh my bloody hell. That was probably the longest month of my life. November, that is. For those of you that have been left waiting, I'm terribly sorry. I did conquer NaNoWriMo, so the month I was gone was not in vain. But you know what? The second those fifty thousand words were done, I came crawling back to my drabbles because I'm a deprived little girl who wants her fanfiction back. So here I am; and here is the beginning of the next set of drabbles in my ungodly long series. Thank you to xTKx for welcoming me back shortly before my return; you are the reason I won, actually. Because I realized that if I didn't finish, the entire month I spent away from fanfiction would have been wasted, and I couldn't have that. So that's for you, dearie. Anyway, this is the beginning of a new set of vignettes related to the Ichi-Hitsu pairing. If you've read my last set of drabbles, you may know what to expect. I have decided not to lengthen the drabbles, for the sake of not needing to by doing a larger quantity of them. That, and I find that pushing myself to a word count takes away from some of the spontaneity of the drabbles. So, that plan was nixed for the sake of my sanity. For those of you that are new to this, I take one word prompt donations to work up to 200. You can donate a set if you'd like, or just one if you can't come up with any more. Other than that I don't think I have any news that can't be saved for the bottom author's note, so in the mean time, enjoy the drabbles, biffles.

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**1: Deception**

For a long time, everyone in the Soul Society had a difficult time dealing with Aizen's betrayal. Even the most observant of them all had been blind to the signs; unable in every sense to protect themselves from the hammer stroke when it fell. But only those who had been closes to figuring it out had been caused the most pain, and for a long time Ichigo forgot that Toshiro was counted amongst those few.

But when one day he'd been rummaging through the young Captain's closet, and found a small package, wrapped up in brown paper and string tucked away into the furthest corners of the smaller man's closet. He'd drawn it out, probably out of mere curiosity, and opened it to find a rather nice, woven red scarf inside.

"Put that away, Kurosaki."

He'd turned to face the young Captain, who had a grim expression on his face. Ichigo couldn't guess why; it was only a scarf, after all. There seemed no reason to get so upset about it. But the look on Toshiro's face told him otherwise. However, he wasn't going to put it away until he'd gotten some reason as to why he should. "Why, Toshiro?" he'd asked. "What is it?"

Toshiro had turned away, saying bitterly over his shoulder, "Just another piece of Aizen's deception."

**2: Ergophobia**

"I think you have the antipode of ergophobia, Toshiro."

Said Captain in question glowered over the dwindling mound of paperwork at the young red head who had made the statement. The damnable teen was lounging on his couch (admittedly where he wanted to be for a well earned nap), skimming through his unabridged dictionary with all the interest of a bored three year old. He resisted the urge to sigh, and decided to merely return to his work.

Much to the proof of Ichigo's former statement.

"I mean, seriously, man, you work more than anyone else in the whole damn Soul Society, and you never seem to be done," the fly on his wall persisted from his safe distance away. "Makes me wonder if you're not addicted to it or something. It really does worry me sometimes, Toshiro."

The young Captain growled, kneading his forehead with the palm of his hand. "If it worries you so damn much, Kurosaki, why don't you do something about it?" he griped, not quite realizing what his words implied until they were far out of his mouth and beyond his capability to withdraw.

The smug grin on Ichigo's face showed that he was well aware of Toshiro's verbal foible, and was seconds away from brutally abusing it. And in spite of practically having asked for it, Toshiro was still no less inclined to let him do so.

"Well," the Substitute said slowly, an almost comical waggle of his eyebrows accompanying the word, "what did you have in mind, _Captain Hitsugaya_?"

Damn it all to hell.

Taking another slow breath, Toshiro looked up, his face straight as he spoke out in defense of his previous statement. "You taking some yoga classes, and learning to fuck yourself sideways with a rusty spork." Ichigo's surprised silence blanketed the room, and Toshiro grinned snidely at him. "_That_ is what I had in mind, _Ichigo_."

The pleasant silence was broken rather abruptly by Ichigo's hollering laughter. Toshiro would have sworn that the entire building was going to collapse from the force of it, and was amazed when it managed not to. And even if the building had not been razed, Toshiro would still be amazed if half the Soul Society didn't hear the ruckus.

But he had to admit, the sight of a fitfully laughing Ichigo Kurosaki was a hallmark one indeed. Especially as the young teen proceeded to laugh himself to tears, cry himself the point of not breathing, and end up rolling off the couch to writhe on the floor. At which point he promptly whacked his head on the couch he had just rolled off of, resulting in more laughter induced tears at his own unfortunate pain.

At that point, Toshiro gave up on trying to contain himself, end ended up laughing himself. He was half curled over his desk by the time they both gathered enough of themselves to be considered decent, his forehead pressed to the wood in an attempt to hide his face as he laughed. He took in a deep breath, breathing out chuckles still as he straightened himself. Ichigo was far less composed, having to haul himself up from the floor and wipe his cheeks dry with the sleeves of his shihakusho. His free arm was clasped around his stomach, which was probably in a considerable amount of pain taking into account just how long the two had been laughing.

"See, Kurosaki?" Toshiro said once he was sure he wasn't going to burst out into laughter again. "I'm not addicted to my work." He couldn't help the small inserted chuckle that bubbled through at that point. "I'm perfectly willing to take crucial time out of my day to laugh at you."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, but was unable to keep the smile from his own face. "Yeah, whatever," he grumbled out, but his voice was still tilted with an undeniable smile. "At least I don't have _that_ to worry about anymore, do I?"

Toshiro shook his head, still smiling as he returned to his paperwork. It had been a nice interlude, actually, and had done wonders to lift his mood. The rest of the paperwork seemed to pass by quickly, but he hadn't realized how little time had passed by until Ichigo sat on the corner of his desk, drawing his attention away from his now completed work.

He looked over at the other Soul Reaper curiously, wondering what he had to say now. But, knowing Ichigo, it was either something humorous or mildly insulting. But when their eyes met, Toshiro was forced to pause. There was a gleam in Ichigo's eyes, that had more pleasure locked in it than Toshiro had seen in a long while. It wasn't a perverse pleasure, just a friendly one. A warm pleasure that said without words, "I'm so glad I could make you smile."

But even with his eyes saying that for him, Ichigo said it anyway, smacking the young Captain upside the shoulder for good measure. Toshiro chuckled down to his stack of completed paperwork, shaking his head. He stood up, and Ichigo followed him up, in spite of far surpassing his height even whilst sitting. "I guess you're actually pretty good to keep around, Kurosaki," he said, settling his haori more comfortably about his shoulders as he made for the door.

He could feel the taller man's steps trailing after his heels, but didn't feel the need to look back. He knew Ichigo would be there; he wasn't nearly wily enough to sneak up on the shorter Captain, even when he was trying to. "How do you figure, Toshiro?" the other asked, amusement still potently present in his voice. It sounded nice; to hear such a usually somber young man speak so gaily.

"Because you certainly are wonderful comic relief. Who knows, maybe if I keep you in the office for long enough I'll be able to get the supposed stick shoved up my ass out," he said, and for the second time that day he managed to get Ichigo to burst into unceremonious laughter.

But when the taller man's arm wrapped around his shoulder, and a soft kiss was planted atop his head, he stopped walking to nuzzle his head under Ichigo's warm chin. "I only have one problem with that plan, Toshiro," he said into the snowy locks, and Hitsugaya hummed at him to entice him to continue.

"The only stick shoved up your ass happens to be mine, and I rather like it where it is."

**3: Existence**

"How do we know that this is real? How can we be sure that our existence isn't some kind of bad hallucination?"

A pillow promptly smothered his face.

"I swear to God, Ichigo, if you go citing _Inception _one more damn time, I'll kill you right now. Then you'll _know_ it's real."

**4: Trailblazing**

If there was ever a thing as sheer bloody panic in his life, Ichigo surely found it the night he lost Toshiro to the streets of Los Angeles. All hundreds of years later he had a hard time remembering why they'd been in Los Angeles in the first place, but he did remember quite clearly how panicked he'd been when he realized that he'd managed to board a train with his spouse nowhere in sight. What was worse was that he had no recollection of where they could have gotten separated, but even by that time the doors to the train had closed, sealing him off until the train stopped at the next station some miles away.

It would then return to his memory that he and Toshiro had been sent to Los Angeles to investigate some strange, long distance Hollow activity, and that because they were so far away from the Soul Society, calling in to have a Spiritual Pressure Limiter removed would take six hours at least. And in spite of having every grain of faith in Toshiro's ability to defend himself against Hollows, Ichigo did not hold that same faith for Toshiro's ability to protect himself from other people.

Especially the type of people that lived in certain areas of Los Angeles that Toshiro would have no idea to avoid. And, yet again, Ichigo had every grain of faith in Toshiro's status as a genius, but there were some things that even geniuses couldn't be prepared for.

So, rather than wasting his time trundling back down the same way he had come on another train, he'd taken to the streets, leaving his body at the hotel they had been headed to and ducking out into the strangely lively city in search of his spouse.

But he discovered early on that he had a rather large problem when it came to navigating the trundling, bustling cities of Los Angeles; he had no idea where he was going, or how to get back to where he needed to be. Less than impressed with himself and his situation, he'd let his spiritual pressure spike as high as he could get it to under the Limiter's restriction, hoping that Toshiro would be able to sense it and give him some sort of return signal.

He didn't have to wait long at all, sitting atop a squat building, to see an uncharacteristically dark set of storm clouds conglomerating over a small area off in the distance. He recognized those clouds well; considering he'd seen Hyorinmaru's effects on the weather more frequently than he could have cared to guess. Taking the sign while he had the chance, he leapt from rooftop to rooftop in the direction of the thunderhead.

When he finally arrived at his spouse's location, he found the spritely looking man sitting on a rooftop, perfectly tranquil as he always was, apparently unperturbed by their separation as Ichigo had been. He also seemed unharmed, much to Ichigo's relief.

"You certainly got here quickly enough," he commented coolly, letting the ominous clouds disperse over their heads as he reigned in his icy spiritual pressure. "That was quite impressive. Very ingenious, Ichigo, I'm proud."

Ichigo rolled his eyes at Toshiro, despite knowing that the other man was partially serious. Mostly he was just relieved that he'd managed to find his spouse in one piece and not littered about the city somewhere. All kinds of gruesome thoughts about murder scenes and hate crimes shot through is head, and he was nearly sick to himself if it wasn't for the fact that the person he was looking for was sitting in front of him. "Yeah, yeah," he said, gently pulling the other up by his bicep. "Let's be done dawdling for the night and get back to the hotel, shall we? I'm quite ready to be done trailblazing my way through Los Angeles."

"Alright," Toshiro consented, kissing Ichigo's jaw as he stood. "But I appreciate the fact that you did all that trailblazing just for me."

**5: Genii**

"It takes a genius to love a genius, you know," Renji had told Ichigo one day. It had been when Ichigo had been questioning why exactly he'd been able to earn his way into Toshiro's world, and was worrying over the idea of being worthy of it. But that simple statement managed to wash away his questioning, even if he didn't consider himself quite the genius that Toshiro was.

But together, they were genii, and that thought was too appealing for him to pass up.

**6: Marriage**

"So, do you think you two will start another Royal House?" Rukia had asked him one day, and he'd looked curiously over at her over his plate of sushi.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, unable to comprehend whatever train of thought she had jumped onto.

"You have to admit, by you and Toshiro being married, you make up one of the most powerful marriages in all of the Soul Society right now," she said, pointing her chopsticks at him accusingly. "You can't tell me that there isn't even the slightest possibility that you two might end up creating an entirely new Royal House."

Ichigo's eyes had remained twitching throughout her entire explanation. "Rukia, if you haven't noticed, _we're both __**men**_."

"I know that, stupid." She'd rolled her eyes at him. But she paused for a moment, seeing that Ichigo's confusion was honest. "You can't tell me that you haven't talked to Captain Unohana about _that_ yet!"

Yet again, Ichigo was left staring blankly at her.

"You are such a moron!" At that point she threw her chopsticks at him, landing a rather sore shot to his forehead. "Go talk to her right now! Before Toshiro falls out of his prime!"

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Ichigo barked, quite angry at the implication made towards his husband.

But before he'd managed to wrangle a proper explanation out of her, the shorter Soul Reaper had shooed him out, demanding that he go and see Captain Unohana before he come back and finish his complimentary sushi lunch.

**7: Wolf**

Ichigo couldn't help the deep sigh of relief he breathed when he and Toshiro returned from their favorite mountainside villa later that day. It felt calming, to know that Aizen had gone. To know that his lingering footsteps would no longer haunt their quiet house. He'd turned to Toshiro, grasping the other man's hand and drawing him in to a strong embrace. Toshiro returned it, but with a rather questioning look.

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" he'd asked, a hand resting on Ichigo's arm.

Ichigo had merely smiled down at him, a gentle peck transferring from his lips to the chill lips of his partner. "I'm just relieved," he breathed out, straightening up and taking another deep breath before letting it out slowly.

"Relieved at what?" Toshiro asked as he strayed into their house, his bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floors. But Ichigo remained behind at the doorstep, forcing Toshiro to stop and look back at him in order to get his answer.

"I'm just glad," Ichigo said, following after the other man and grasping his hand gently. "Because now I don't have to worry about there being a wolf in our house anymore. Now I don't have to worry about you being safe when we're not in the same room together."

Toshiro's eyes softened, and he gave Ichigo's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Me too."

**8: Silence**

Toshiro viewed silence a bit different than most. Some were unnerved by it, others comforted by it. He had to admit that he more than enjoyed it most of the time, but not for the reason that most people thought. It wasn't because it allowed him to think, wasn't because it calmed him.

Rather, Toshiro enjoyed silence because it allowed him to enjoy all the other quiet sounds he usually missed in everyday life.

It let him hear the creak of wood floors shifting as his house settled at night, to hear the soft rippling of the water in the Koi pond in his back yard. It let him enjoy the sound of silk sheets shifting in the summer night to accommodate the other body lying in his bed, and it allowed him to enjoy the soft sound of that body breathing against his neck as the night waned.

More than anything, that was why Toshiro enjoyed silence.

**9: Drown**

"I think I'd rather drown than die any other way," Toshiro had told him one day over the morning paper, as if he were commenting on the weather.

"I'd rather you not die at all."

**10: Woman**

When Renji had insisted that he and Toshiro join he and Rukia on their honeymoon, he hadn't been entirely sure what to think. He'd been honored, yes, but a bit concerned as to how awkward it would be. But neither Rukia nor Renji seemed to mind, so he'd consented quite willingly. What he hadn't known when he'd signed onto that little circus show was that Rukia and Renji had planned a trip to New Orleans, where they would be leaving for a week long cruise about the Caribbean. He and Toshiro had opted not to follow onto the cruise, but had shared a few days with the new couple in New Orleans.

They'd sequestered themselves at the _Le Pavilion_ hotel, a rather expensive spot, but well worth the expense with its grandiose décor. Located in the central business district, it wasn't far at all from the highly acclaimed Bourbon Street, which, quite naturally, had been their first stop.

For Ichigo and Toshiro, their first and _only_ stop.

Renji had taken on the horrible misfortune of picking their bar. Which, considering they were all well of age and had IDs to prove it, was less than a big deal at first. The only issue was that he'd picked a rather seedy joint called _The Bourbon Cowboy_ to drag them into, a concept that had less than pleased Toshiro. But, being the good, patient man that he was, he went in anyway without a word of complaint.

They'd placed themselves at the end of the bar, trying to take up as little space as possible as the rest of the lively city gyrated around them. Ichigo could tell that Toshiro was less than pleased, and he really couldn't blame the man. It seemed that the famed Bourbon Street was little more than a seedy street where cleavage and other private affairs became public, and intoxication was almost guaranteed. The "culture" of New Orleans, seemed to be safely nested _elsewhere._ But Ichigo had ordered a beer, and just as patiently humored his friend as Toshiro sat by, sticking to water.

After a while they'd gotten to quietly discussing some things, eventually warming into a nice open chat where all of them were inputting and starting to have a rather enjoyable time. But about the same time that Toshiro was about to input some kind of remark, one of the cleavage-inclined waitresses reached around from behind him and all but forced a multi-colored Jell-O shot down the poor unsuspecting man's throat.

Toshiro, less than pleased, had swallowed the drink and turned to snap at the woman, but she had only promptly held out her hand and demanded a good ten dollars for the forced drink.

Flabbergasted, the rest of the group stared on as Toshiro paused for a moment, before sighing and flicking out a card out of his pocket. "I only have a credit card," he said, and Ichigo was suddenly very much suspicious at the mischievous tone in the younger man's voice. He'd gotten up and followed after the young man as he followed after the waitress, who had led them to the front desk where a cashier waited for them.

When they arrived, Toshiro attempted to explain his situation. "Excuse me, sir," he said, sounding rather terse, "this woman forced a drink on me, and is now demanding that I pay for it."

The cashier had merely shrugged, not an iota of apology coming from him. "Sorry, bub. You swallowed it; you pay for it."

Toshiro sighed, handing over his credit card with a grumble. But there was that gleam in his eyes that made Ichigo wonder what he was up to, and so he waited patiently at bay. The man took it, before asking for a proper ID.

Much to Ichigo's surprise, Toshiro smiled when he handed over the ID card, consenting to the request easily. The former Substitute couldn't fathom why this would be getting him out of any trouble. If anything, it would hold him accountable for what had happened.

But what happened next surprised him. Upon seeing the ID, the cashier quite suddenly swore to himself, glowering over at the waitress who had stuck around just to contend the claims. She seemed startled as well, and had demanded of him what the hell the matter was.

He'd flashed her Toshiro's ID card, and bit out, "You dumb bitch! He's under age!"

She paled at the accusation, bubbling up with excuses as the cashier handed Toshiro back his ID and credit card and ordering both of them out before turning back to verbally admonish the still floundering waitress.

Ichigo waved Renji and Rukia out of the back of the bar, quite happily obeying the order to leave as he joined Toshiro outside the bar doors. Once Renji and Rukia had joined them, and once they were at least two blocks away, he turned to Toshiro. "Toshiro, how the hell did you do that? I thought your ID accounted for you being of age."

"My current one does," Toshiro said, a wry tilt to his lips as he glanced across the sidewalk at all of them. "But I kept an older ID in my wallet because I'd forgotten to take it out. That one didn't account for me being of age; so I figured it would be perfect to use in this situation."

The rest of his accompanying group groaned with laughter, each and every one of them complimenting the young prodigy's ingenuity. Ichigo and Toshiro had parted ways with the newly weds, promising that they wouldn't want to spoil another Bourbon Street experience for them and promising that they'd take them out for breakfast in the morning. Renji and Rukia had bid them farewell, and Ichigo and Toshiro had quietly enjoyed the walk back to the hotel.

Ichigo was still chuckling when they got back to their room. "I still can't believe you pulled that off," he said.

Toshiro was laying on their plush, king size bed and let out a sigh. "I can't believe the waitresses do things like that," he said, shuddering. "It makes me glad that I'm no longer in the dating scene. Women are frightening creatures."

Ichigo sat on the edge of the bed, the plush cushion bowing beneath his added weight as he leaned over and planted a quick peck on his husband's lips. "I'm glad you're not in the dating scene anymore too, Toshiro. I don't know if I could have handled watching her do that to you if I was having to compete for your attention."

Toshiro kissed him back, smiling gently as one of his fair hands laced through Ichigo's fiery hair. "There wouldn't have been a competition, Ichigo. No woman could ever make me ignore you."

**11: Beneath**

When Ichigo did manage to convince Toshiro to go on a tropical vacation, he was surprised at how much the other seemed to enjoy it. He hadn't been expecting it, considering the heat was one of the defining factors in why they hadn't gone sooner. But their short sojourn in French Polynesia, spend island hopping and swimming until they couldn't move, went over wonderfully. Ichigo had been pleased, considering he'd always wanted a tropical vacation, but had also wanted to please his spouse.

He'd managed to succeed in doing both, because as he discovered rather quickly, Toshiro had a natural affinity for snorkeling. Or, what he considered snorkeling, and what most other normal people would have considered scuba diving. But water was part of Toshiro's element, even when he wasn't in the Soul Society, so it seemed whenever he was under those balmy teal waters, he was in a world of his own, the water rippling to his will to allow him to swim for longer than anyone Ichigo had ever seen.

Admittedly, Ichigo had been forced to rent scuba gear just to keep up with him, but he didn't mind at all. It was well worth the expense to be able to see Toshiro so calm, completely surrounded by a fascinating new facet of the element he'd bonded with for so long. Because beneath the surface, of the water and Toshiro's standard facades, there was a great love of things that lived and flourished, and the shifting tides and warm water coral reefs gave Toshiro just that.

**12: Banish**

Ichigo's head rested against his pillow as he looked over at his spouse, his eyes sleepy but attentive as he listened intently to the other man's breathing. Toshiro had woken with a rather violent start, his breath wrenching into a gasp as it tore out of his throat, his body jerking straight as a board as he sat up quickly, almost throwing Ichigo off the bed in the process.

Toshiro was still in a sitting position, his back bent as he buried his face in his hands, trying to calm himself down. Ichigo sat up with him, drawing ginger circles across the other man's shoulders in an attempt to help speed up the calming process. Toshiro was drenched in a hot sweat; something more than unusual for him. But his once panicked breathing was slowing, and the tremors he'd woken with were winding away.

"It was a dream," he started with a voice as dry as the desert. "Just a dream." He was sighing as he spoke, as if stating the facts aloud were helping to calm him. Ichigo leaned over, kissing a temple dotted with beads of sweat.

"What happened?" Ichigo asked, gingerly wrapping his arms around the narrow shoulders as he spoke into Toshiro's ear in a whisper.

Toshiro leaned against him like a dead weight, his body's exhaustion after the episode made apparent by the laxness in his muscles in spite of his short-lived trauma. But his head was curled against Ichigo's collarbones, letting him know that the other was still disturbed.

"They banished me to the desert," he said, and Ichigo felt him start to shake again. He pulled the other closer, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as his fellow Captain continued. "I don't know what for, or why, but… I couldn't get out," Toshiro continued, his voice getting weaker as he spoke. "No matter where I walked or how far I ran, there was only more desert. More lidless sky, more barren sand, more emptiness; no water. I felt like I was suffocating, like I was breathing fire, like at any moment I was just going to fall away into ash, and become part of the desert again." He shook his head against Ichigo's shoulder, a fair hand gripping onto one of the arms encircling him. "But I kept going, because I knew I had to get to you. You were out there, somewhere, and I needed to get to you. But I couldn't, and the more I tried, the more it felt like the white dunes were swallowing me."

Ichigo let Toshiro sit in his silence for a moment, letting his own mind comprehend what the other had seen. He'd had those kinds of dreams before; the ones that were either blessedly detailed or frighteningly real. He didn't doubt for a moment that every second of the dream had seemed real, and didn't think for a moment that he too wouldn't have been disturbed by it. But after a moment's peace, he leaned down, kissing gently Toshiro's brow.

"Come on, now," he said, gently nudging Toshiro's shoulder, laying down and hoping to entice the other back to bed. Much to his delight his spouse did, but only to curl up against his chest once lying down. Ichigo wrapped his arms around him, letting the other's body cool off against him. "I promise I won't let anything like that happen to you," he murmured, wrapping an arm around Toshiro's neck and stroking at the soft hair at the base of his neck. "Now, let me banish away those fears of yours."

**13: Maunder**

Toshiro usually wasn't one for incessant chatter. He never had been, and he never would be. But there were times that Ichigo would catch him maundering, babbling out words that were undeniably sweet, but so superfluous that they seemed rather unlike him. Ichigo had told him so once, and Toshiro had merely explained that, when those bouts of wordiness washed over him, it was only because he was so inundated by a love he couldn't contain that he was unable to stop himself.

And that, Ichigo was perfectly okay with.

**14: Mirror**

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?" Ichigo said, nipping at Toshiro's ear as the other tried to brush him off.

"Oh stop it," the other man said rather petulantly, trying to swat away Ichigo's trailing teeth as he made to leave the bathroom with what little dignity he had left.

But Ichigo's firm arms wrapped around his torso, dragging him back in front of the large mirror they had mounted over their sinks. Toshiro had huffed at him, but as Ichigo's large hands reached down, dusting over Toshiro's distended tummy, he was forced to still his complaints.

"Even your stretch marks will be gorgeous," he said with a smile against the other man's ear, earning him another huff and another swat at his head as Toshiro finally managed to successfully leave the bathroom and head to bed.

**15: Art**

Artistry in motion was a phrase often used to describe those with outstanding grace or skill. But Ichigo had come to the conclusion long ago that true art didn't need to move in order to prove it was beautiful. It was capable of standing alone, perfectly still, whilst remaining the epitome of beauty. He'd often gotten Toshiro to laugh at him for such a statement, but he stood firm by his beliefs.

Mostly because he could take any singular photograph of Toshiro, and find so much beauty in it that it would have been impossible for him to consider anything more beautiful if he didn't already ardently love the man within the framed stills.

**16: Unvociferousness**

Toshiro was much more of a quiet and reserved person. He always had been, and always would be. And there were times in that deep silence that followed the man around that Ichigo was able to find words buried in his actions. Many words, he would often find. Volumes worth of words, buried into one, voiceless expression that would catch him by the roots of his hair and leave him melted.

Because all it took was a kiss; a lingering, firm, _loving_ kiss. No words, no sound, but more things expressed than any voice could ever hope to say. Because sometimes Toshiro didn't need to be vociferous to get his point across, and that was one thing that Ichigo was also, very okay with.

**17: Changing**

"It's hard to believe that Ukitake and Kyoraku are retiring," Ichigo admitted to his spouse as they shared their morning tea. Toshiro's snowy head had nodded in agreement, his eyes sad at the news but the rest of him remaining neutral.

"It is," he conceded. "But I think that they've earned retirement, and will enjoy it together. I'm just thankful that Unohana isn't leaving anytime soon, otherwise we'd all be in a world of hurt."

Ichigo was the one nodding this time. "But it's hard to deal with things changing after so many years. It's like the old guard is going out of service and the new one is coming in." He shook his head. "It makes me wonder who is going to replace them. It'll be interesting to see who they pick."

Toshiro shrugged, taking another deep drink of his green tea. "Change is inevitable, Ichigo. We can only weather it as we can in hope of it bringing on a brighter tomorrow."

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-Well, there. Not bad for my first day back from NaNoWriMo. I'm surprised that I got all of these done, even if it means I wrote five thousand words in one day. I guess I just really missed you guys. Anyway, there's one thing I wanted to add before I trundle off to bed, and that's to all the new readers out there. If you have not already read 100 Words I Would Say, I would recommend that you go and read them, because many of them will be continued in these drabbles, and you will be left horribly lost if you don't know where they're coming from. For those of you old readers, welcome back, and I hope you enjoy these. Again, feel free to donate; I've got a lot of drabble slots open, so no worries! Thanks again to xTKx who gave me these prompts forever ago; I hope you enjoyed them as a "I'm finally back" gift. Peace out for now, biffles, until next time.

8-90s love,

crypto


	2. Set 2: Provided by Corisanna

-Glad to be back still? Yes I am. Broke as a joke? Sadly, yes. Glad to be going home for Christmas break in two weeks? Damn skippy. Going to stop gabbing at you and get on with the drabbles now? Probably. Still taking prompt donations, see bottom for more details and commentary.

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**1:Shimmy**

If there was one thing Ichigo had noticed about Toshiro over the years, it was that he wasn't particularly fond of bumping shoulders with people. He could only imagine that it was because when he was shorter, bumping shoulders with people meant them shouldering someone, and him getting a shoulder to the head. But the habit of avoiding people in crowds had persisted even as he'd grown taller, and had turned out to be a rather amusing habit that Ichigo often found humorous.

Especially when he was walking with Toshiro through large crowds in the World of the Living. It was most amusing then, because faced with the onslaught of people, Toshiro would fall into this fantastic, dodging shimmy in order to avoid touching anybody. Ichigo, being a bit more broad chested, just plowed through the crowds as he always had, but kept an eye on his partner the entire time if only for the sake of liking to watch Toshiro's fancy footwork.

**2: Magic**

Ichigo discovered when he and Toshiro had been stationed in the World of the Living for a few months that the young man had a like for older music. Not old as in classical, old as in "oldies", which were just one too many generations beyond Ichigo's to really be considered "new age". He'd discovered this one day whilst traipsing through Toshiro's iPod Classic; a gadget of Urahara's invention that also served as a nice, compact communicator to the 12th Division in Soul Society, no matter where they were.

It held music too, which was it's real perk for the young Captain. On more than one occasion Ichigo had to keep Toshiro from dismantling the thing just to see how it ticked, considering they really did need it. On one such occasion, after having kept it longer than he had intended, he'd decided to look through what the young man had put on it.

He smiled to himself when he saw the song that Toshiro had stopped it on last, and promptly sought out his spouse and gave him a well earned kiss. Curious as to why, Toshiro had asked such.

"Because, every little thing you do _is_ magic, and every little thing you do just turns me on," he quoted from the song, promptly kissing him again with a smile on his lips.

**3: Black-Eye**

"I think that Captain Kurosaki had too much to drink last night," Yumichika's voice spoke out from behind him.

"What do you me-" Halfway through his sentence, Ikkaku actually looked back at his partner in crime, suddenly stunned at what he saw. "Holy bloody hell!" he nearly shouted. "What happened to you?"

The be-feathered man stuck his nose up in the air, trying to cover the rather deep black eye with his perfectly coiffed hair. "I was just complimenting Captain Hitsugaya on the cut of his yukata."

His companion rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he promptly walked away from the other, well aware of what had transpired past that point. "Idiot."

**4: Screech**

"No."

"Please?"

"No! Bloody hell I sound like a dying screech owl, what more do you want from me?"

"…Really?"

"Yes, Ichigo, now for the last damn time, I am _not going to sing_."

**5: Flustered**

"God! What are you, emotionally constipated or something?" Ichigo snapped at him one day, crossing his arms indignantly over his chest as he stared the other down from across the 10th Division office.

To which the snowy Captain had oh so coolly replied, "No, I'm just got a heart made of ice."

Even more flustered, Ichigo had tromped towards the Captain's desk, dragging him up by his shihakusho and ravishing his lips. When he drew away, Toshiro's expression was still cool, but losing a bit of its smooth control. "Just tell me then, _ducem glaciali_," he purred out against the other's slowly warming cheek, "what the hell is it that's going to get you as hot and bothered as I am."

**6: Strawberry**

Toshiro hadn't been fond of films when Ichigo had first introduced them to him. But after watching all ungodly amounts of hours of special features, and after having seen the inner workings of the production that went into film, Toshiro admitted openly to liking them much more. So, when Ichigo had dragged him to a matinee showing of _Iron Man II_, Toshiro had consented quite easily.

And, after the token awkward quarrel scene between the two romantically involved protagonists, Toshiro promptly leaned over, and whispered in Ichigo's ear, "I don't think I can think of a fate worse than being allergic to strawberries." Ichigo then gently graced a hand over Toshiro's narrow knee, squeezing gently and gracing the man's cheek with a gentle kiss, a smile pressed into the gesture just for good measure.

**7: Blessing**

"But my momma told me not to play with strangers," the small child sobbed from behind his sweater sleeve as he tried valiantly to wipe away his tears. Toshiro sighed, knowing that they had to perform konso on the little soul before any Hollows showed up. But he didn't want to force the child on; he wanted to give him comfort, but everything he'd said until now had been fruitless.

"Hey, kid, see his white coat?" Ichigo said, placing a hand on Toshiro's shoulder as he spoke down to the small child. He was half-kneeling next to Toshiro, but his tone still serious and gruff as it always was. The small child nodded uncertainly, blinking up at the Substitute curiously. "It means he's an angel. You can trust him; he'll lead you on safely."

The little boy looked to Toshiro with hope in his eyes, apparently believing what Ichigo had said based on Toshiro's rather angelic appearance. "Really?" he asked the Captain.

Toshiro nodded, patting the child on the head and smiling graciously. "Yes," he said. "And I promise, with my blessing you'll pass on safely, okay? Do you think your Momma would be okay with that?"

The little boy nodded, grasping onto Toshiro's outstretched hand. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay."

**8: Boy**

It wasn't often that Toshiro was assigned to missions in the World of the Living early on in his Captaincy. He'd been too busy trying to learn how to handle his division to take that kind of leisure time. Which was rather sad, considering he'd thought of out-of-world missions leisure. But, regardless, he'd managed to get a bead on his Division with all the efficiency his status as a prodigy could offer. The majority of the other Captains had been impressed at his progress, and had told him so. With all their positive insight on him to the Head Captain, he was quite swiftly allotted a reconnaissance mission to the World of the Living regarding the presence of several strange sources of spiritual pressure. It wasn't the most serious mission, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth; it may as well have been vacation time, considering he was only to observe the town in question for a few days and then return with only his observations.

Two days into his four day mission, he'd made a surprising discovery.

Along with the discovery of the general source of the strange spiritual pressures, a strange vagabond group that assembled in a warehouse and generally managed to elude him out in the general public, he'd also discovered a small niche of people, apparently closely related, with rather potent spiritual pressures themselves.

Most notably, and most surprisingly, a young, orange haired boy in particular.

He'd stumbled upon the boy, or, rather, the boy had stumbled upon him as he'd been sitting along a riverbank watching the sun set. He'd been satisfied with the observations he'd made that day, sure that he'd discovered more than the Head Captain had wanted or needed. Sitting there, minding his own business, he'd felt the young boy approach, wholly unable not to considering how much spiritual pressure he bled off. But he didn't pay much mind, considering it wasn't his concern; it was a soul's spiritual pressure, and thus it was nothing unique.

"Did you see her too?" a small voice had asked from behind him.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he'd blinked slowly at the small child. He couldn't be more than… perhaps six or seven. His hair was more fiery than the skyset behind him, but there was an aged sadness in his eyes that made the fresh Captain pause.

"See who?" he asked gently, not wanting to scare the poor thing away. He looked downtrodden enough already; a coarse remark wouldn't do any good other than to send him away crying.

The young boy, apparently not frightened off by his strange appearance like most young things were, walked slowly down towards where Toshiro sat, kneeling down next to him and looking down at the ground almost guiltily. But Toshiro could see in his sad auburn eyes that it had nothing to do with anything that Toshiro had said or done; it was a previous sadness that was making him so dour.

"The little girl with the black hair."

**9: Girl**

Toshiro had tilted his head, looking curiously at the young boy as he spoke. "Little girl with the black hair?" he asked as the young boy rolled back to sit on his bottom. His little hands were wrapped around his backpack straps, gripping at them almost nervously.

"Yeah," he said, his voice very quiet. "If you see her, Mister…" He looked over at Toshiro, then, his large eyes suddenly very worried. "Don't go after her! Please! You'll get hurt!"

"It's okay," Toshiro assured gently, "I promise, I won't. I'll stay away from her, and I'll be fine, okay?" He looked with sympathy over at the young boy's brimming tears, tempted to reach out to him, but resisting the urge to make him feel uncomfortable, he settled his hands in his lap. "Just don't cry."

The little boy's lower lip tugged up as he tried to obey Toshiro's wishes. He curled in on himself, burying his face against his knees. His shoulders were shaking with the effort not to weep, and Toshiro sighed, giving up on being distant and slowly reaching over to place a steadying hand on the young boy's shoulder.

"Come on, now," he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. He really wasn't good with children usually; they were normally scared away by his appearance before he could interact with them, so he hadn't much experience. But he'd learned how after performing several konso during his time at the Academy, so he'd learned how to soothe most. "I know you're worried, but you don't need to be. I promised you, right?"

The little boy looked up, his tears licking down the sides of his cherubic cheeks. "Yeah," he whispered out weakly, smiling just barely. Toshiro smiled back encouragingly, but the moment was broken when the young boy's head whipped to the side, his eyes widening as he caught sight of something. Toshiro's eyes followed, his own set widening.

There, down by the river, was the little girl the boy had spoken of. But beyond what he assumed the little boy could see, was a massive, lurking Hollow. He grasped at the boy's shoulder, pulling him up as Toshiro stood also. His first priority was to get the boy away from the Hollow, and secondly to eradicate it before it hurt anyone else.

"Come on, now, let's get away from here," he said, urging the boy away. He could feel the little boy's panic in his spiritual pressure, and how violently it spiked at seeing the little girl. Toshiro mentally scowled, knowing that the damnable Hollow was using bait to goad the small child into getting closer. It was sick and despicable, in every way, shape, and form.

When the young boy grabbed onto his hand, he looked down a bit worriedly. He hadn't brought any gikongan with him; not properly equipped ones, anyway. He only had his combat gikongan, which would leave his gigai lying stone cold with a seven year old boy attached to it. But he glanced back, only to find the Hollow trailing after them. He needed to get out of the gigai and take care of the situation quickly. And, if anything, the sooner he got it over with, the less time his gigai would have to spend empty.

In a sudden burst of movement, the Hollow had rushed forward, apparently having caught onto not only the young boy's spiritual pressure, but Toshiro's own considerable amount as well. Even under the Limiter it was not unnoticeable. He heard the little boy yelp at the sight of the girl approaching so quickly, unable to comprehend the danger beyond her. In a swift motion, Toshiro popped one of his emergency combat gikongan into his mouth, jumping out of his body. The gigai crumbled to the ground, and he glanced back and swore when he saw that the Hollow's approach, quicker than he'd gauged, had managed to inflict a minor wound to his gigai. The fake body bled lazily, but that did nothing to quell the poor panicked boy that was still attached to his gigai's lax hand.

Turning to face the task at hand, Hyorinmaru drawn and ready in his hands, he stared down the singing blade at the Hollow. The damnable thing seemed terrified, now, and rightly so. But Toshiro could tell that there was something off about it. There was no malicious gleam in its eyes; no intent for personal agendas. It was obeying another Hollow's orders, he could see it in the mindless stare it gave him.

The one strike it took to kill the Hollow was so easy he could have just been breathing. A quick dash and a slice through the gruesome skull ended it all, but the promise of the head Hollow still lingering somewhere around was one that didn't sit well with Toshiro. If there was a Hollow that strong lingering around the city, they would be having more problems with the area in the future, to be sure. Sheathing his blade, Toshiro strode back towards where his gigai lay, a pitying glance cast down towards the boy who was still fretting over his body.

Thankfully, the gigai's "heart" was still functioning, so the boy wasn't in total hysterics. Because his spiritual pressure was still within a relatively short distance, it was enough to keep the gigai's inner mechanisms running for a short time. If he'd had to move out of that small range, the bodily functions would have ceased immediately. Kneeling back down into the gigai, he re-woke to the feel of the young boy's little hands shaking him.

He opened his eyes slowly, sitting up with a cringe. The nick was deeper than he thought, but not anything serious. He glanced down at the boy weeping next to him, apologies flooding out of his mouth in an attempt to soothe the poor thing. He'd probably traumatized the poor boy; but better to be traumatized than dead, he supposed. But when his apologizing seemed to do nothing to calm the boy down, he slowed, listening to what the boy was saying back to him.

"I'm sorry." Over and over again. "It's all my fault. It's all my fault." Again and again. He was crying into his hands, and Toshiro sighed, putting both of his hands over the small boy's shoulders in an attempt to get his attention. It worked, and the poor sobbing child looked up at him through a veil of tears.

"It's not your fault," he said sternly, staring the child down. For a moment the boy didn't say anything, and just sat kneeling there, shaking in his little sneakers as contained sobs made his shoulders bob.

"But…" he tried, wiping at his eye with a tiny little fist.

"It is not," Toshiro said slowly, his voice still commanding, "your fault. I'm fine, you're fine, and the girl is gone." His eyes softened. "I promised you I'd be okay, didn't I?"

The little boy nodded again, his tears slowly waning away. "I thought she got you," he said, his little voice still shaky.

The young Captain had shaken his head. "She didn't get me. Someone took care of her, made her go away," he explained to the child, hoping that the little boy would take his word for it. "They made her go away before she could hurt me. Before she could hurt you."

"But she did hurt you!" the little boy burst out suddenly, staring at Toshiro's still bleeding side. It still wasn't bleeding all that quickly, but he could tell where it would disturb a boy his age. Toshiro left his hands on the little child's shoulders.

"I'm okay. It doesn't even hurt at all," he assured, actually quite truthful, as he'd almost forgotten about the wound in the first place. "Now, come on." He stood slowly, letting the unsure little boy follow him up. "I'll walk home to make sure you get there safe, okay?"

The little boy tugged at his sleeve, the tears still in his eyes but the sadness now replaced with something… on the verge of… worry, almost. "But what about you, mister? Who is going to take care of you?"

Toshiro just smiled down at him, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry, little one, I can take care of myself."

**10: Royalty**

"Oh quit smiling," Ichigo snapped in a whisper at his diminutive female friend, who was sitting regally behind her brother as the four royal houses met for probably the first and last time to welcome in the newest one. Rukia just smiled genteelly back, waiting as the rest of them were for the ceremony to commence. Kukaku and Ganju were sitting next to them as well, Ganju grumbling about how Ichigo didn't deserve it and Kukaku avidly immersed in a conversation with Toshiro, who sat hip to hip with Ichigo.

Who the hell would have thought that his and Toshiro's marriage would have ended up in the creating of another Royal House? After all, both of their tendencies towards great spiritual pressure did requisite them with Royal House material, considering there was no other real requirement. And thanks to Rukia's… supplemental information from Captain Unohana on the matter of them both being male, they had successfully and inadvertently wormed their way into the position.

And even though Toshiro was almost too modest for the title, he wasn't cruel enough to deny that the Kurosaki House had an undeniably nice ring to it.

**11: Rationality**

"I suppose there is some sense to it," Toshiro conceded to Matsumoto one day upon her questioning of his and Ichigo's relationship. "But there isn't always sense in love. I don't think there needs to be."

Needless to say, Matsumoto was quiet proud of her Captain's rationale.

**12: Gobsmacked**

"Well I'll be gobsmacked."

"I really wish you would stop making up words whenever we hang out."

"It's a word."

"_Right_. I'm sure that's what you tell _all _the pretty girls you meet."

"It worked on you didn't it?"

Toshiro had him on that one.

**13: Reincarnation**

"Toshiro, have you ever performed konso on cats?" Ichigo asked his spouse one day.

Toshiro stared out of the corners of his eyes at the man in question. "Pardon?"

"Or, you know, do they just skip Soul Society and continue on in the cycle of rebirth?" the other continued, apparently unaffected by the other's questioning stare.

"Why on earth would you want to know?"

"Um… Yuzu asked me."

"_Right_."

**14: Harmony**

Most people would claim that Ichigo wasn't the most observant person in the world. When, in reality, he was much more observant than most people gave him credit for. Toshiro being one of the few people that accredited that to him properly. But, to his own continual proof, he'd been able to quickly realize something about he and Toshiro, far before they'd been married. In fact, it had been when they'd just agreed to start unofficially dating, and had fallen asleep with each other in the confines of Ichigo's small bedroom when it had still been located at his father's house.

He'd been snoozing against Toshiro's back, his cheek resting heavily in sleep against the other man's finely defined shoulder blade, when he'd made the realization. He hadn't woken Toshiro about it, considering his unofficial boyfriend was actually sleeping a few winks was more than enough reason not to. But he'd realized, in that half-awake state lingering between dreaming and dozing, that his own spiritual pressure, which was often best referred to as a torrent, was surprisingly mellow.

He also realized, then, that it was because his usually fluctuating torrent had been steadied by another strong spiritual pressure, smoothing it out into a meandering flow. Nuzzling his cheek against Toshiro's shoulder, he'd closed his eyes with a smile.

Harmony had been his first indication to what would, over time, end up being a long, beautiful relationship.

**15: Meddlers**

The Women's Association was often renowned for their inane ability to meddle in the affairs of the Seireitei's famous residents. And, to nobody's surprise in particular, Ichigo's and Toshiro's long standing marriage eventually came under fire. More than prepared for the onslaught, the two of them had proven more than a superior match for the Women's Association.

Mostly by providing their own material before their scouts could even be sent out to gather any material. In spite of the temptation, said material was not published in favor of believing the threat that was provided with said materials.

**16: Library**

"Kurosaki, for heaven's sake, we're in a library," Toshiro hissed out against the lips pressing against his own, his already bony back nudging rather painfully up against the stocky bookshelves he'd been carousing before Ichigo had followed him in and interrupted.

Ichigo seemed not to have even heard him, and continued his ministrations with all the feverish intent he showed when at home. "Dun' care," he growled out. "It's late, you didn't come home, and it's _Friday_."

Toshiro froze, his mind cascading with obscenities. He'd completely forgotten what day of the week it was, and, as Ichigo had properly designated Friday nights as "_their_" nights, he'd quite grievously made a mistake. But before he could apologize one way or another, he was dragged back to the closed off Captain's-Only section by a pair of roaming hands.

Quite possibly never to be seen again.

**17: Manga**

"Toshiro… why do you have manga on your desk?"

The white haired man glowered up at him. "Because your damnable Kuchiki companion insisted that I read some so that she could properly gauge my literary view on them," he griped.

Ichigo glanced over one of the apparently loathed volumes in question, skimming over the familiar pages. "So she had you read _Death Note_?"

"Yes," Toshiro drawled out, dabbing his quill in his ink well before returning to work. "One of the few volumes I can honestly say I'd like to burn."

Ichigo glanced over at him, surprised at the vehement reaction. "Why?" he asked incredulously.

"Because it's unadulterated nonsense, now, since you're here, would you please take those damnable things back to Ms. Kuchiki before I do something unspeakable to them? I would rather not have to replace them."

Ichigo paused after putting all of the volumes into his arms, glancing down at Toshiro with a smirk.

"You're more of a _Sherlock Holmes_ kind of guy, aren't you?"

"Damn right."

**18: Osechi**

"What do you say, Toshiro, how about some daidai?"

"No."

"Kazunoko then?" The damnable berry was smirking still.

"You're hilarious."

The young man paused, scratching his chin as he looked over at his husband, before leaning in gently, placing an apologetic kiss on the other's chin. "Would you at least consent to some konbu?"

Toshiro paused, closing his eyes and sighing in defeat. "Fine," he murmured, and he felt Ichigo smiled against his neck.

* * *

-Not bad. Took me a bit longer than anticipated, but not bad. I had a lot of help from some fellow writers and close friends to help me get through this set, so I owe a lot to them for these getting done. I have quite a few notes for this set, so I'm going to try to explain them in some sort of consecutive order. First off, drabble 2: Magic. This drabble included song lyrics from the Police song, _Every Little Thing She Does is Magic_. Because the Police rock my fucking socks. And I'm an old toddy who likes oldies better than modern music. Bite me. Next, drabble 5: Flustered. I'll give you a hint; the nickname that Ichigo called Toshiro is in _Latin_, so I would recommend you go put it into GoogleTranslate and have some fun. Now, most notably, number 18: osechi. For those of you that don't know, these are the Japanes foods prepared at New Years in order to celebrate certain things in the new year. I did some research, and these three stuck out the most to me. Daidai symbolizes the wish for children in the New Year, kazunoko symbolizes the wish for _many_ children in the New Year, and konbu most notably represents joy. Other than that, notes are done for this set, thanks again to Corisanna for the ideas, and feel free to donate if you want to! That's my two-cents worth. Enjoy.

8-90s love,

crypto


	3. Set 3: Provided by SillyWQ

-Okay, so I have a bit of a note for Kai-Chan94 before I start this next set. You didn't fail your first time reviewing; I just didn't know how to organize your requests, so I was going to mix them into the actual one-word prompts I was given. Now that I have prompts from you they'll get their own chapter, but the other undefined request that you gave me will be covered in this set of drabbles, okay? I'll be posting the ones that had defined prompts (meaning the ones from your second review) in their own chapter. But I go in the order I receive, so they may be a chapter or two. Thanks for your patience. Now, back to the drabbles!

* * *

**1: Fuel**

"You need to _eat_, Toshiro," his worrying spouse scolded, looming menacingly over the desk full of paperwork that he still had left to do. He looked tiredly up at the other, wondering why exactly this topic was being brought up when there was so much work to be done.

"I _will_," he assured, though with less power than he'd thought based on Ichigo's less than amused reaction. "As soon as I get all of this done. It's much more important that I get all this done than eat lunch."

Ichigo leaned forward, cupping his hands around his cherubic face and squeezing the cheeks with a much for as his sword-strong hands could allot. "If you had any semblance of energy left," he said, tugging at said abused cheeks for emphasis, "you would have been shooing me out of this room half an hour ago. You need fuel; Toshiro. Your body is running on empty, has been for four days, and it's not bloody _healthy_."

The icy Captain blinked dazedly at the other. "Four days?" he repeated slowly. "What day is it?"

"_Friday,_" Ichigo growled out with a scowl on his face. He leaned in close, still pinching Toshiro's cheeks in an attempt to further exemplify his next point. "And I don't have the heart to shag you when you can't bloody see straight."

**2: Paste**

For the longest time, Ichigo couldn't have defined what it was that kept them together. He supposed for a while it could have been pity, but years of devotion and strife outlasted that theory. He supposed then that it could have been luck, but everything about the two of them seemed to mesh so perfectly that luck couldn't be given that much credit. He'd been forced to admit that, in the end, the glue that held their relationship together was the fact that they fucking loved each other more than anything, and that was more than enough.

**3: Itch**

"God, Ichigo, stop it already," the petulant Captain tried to complain as his newly affirmed spouse nipped up a bare, alabaster leg. His cheeks were dusted with a fair blush, his upper body pressed into the plush bedding and mattress that their ski chalet had been equipped with.

"Why would I do that?" Ichigo drawled out with a sensuous lick to the speaker's ankle, sending a rise of goosebumps dancing up the pale skin. "This is so much fun."

"Because," Toshiro defended, pushing at Ichigo's face with the side of his foot playfully. "The lace on this bloody garter is itchy, and it's driving me crazy."

Ichigo smirked, kissing the ankle he'd been lavishing once more before looking pointedly at his partner. "You don't say? I wonder who came up with that idea."

**4: Less**

Ichigo groaned, kneading his forehead as he lay in bed. The morning after was never good when too much drinking was involved, and he'd more than drowned the point of "too much to drink" the night before. But more than the hangover that was splitting his head open, he was far more concerned with the other issue at hand.

"What's the matter, Ichigo?" Toshiro had asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, having brought a glass of cool water and some headache medicine with him. He of the two had been the smartest; choosing to drink only a few saucers of sake before calling it a night, thus avoiding participating in all of the drunken antics that had transpired the night before.

Most notably, Ichigo punching Yumichika in the face for what was probably actually about to be a very lewd comment.

"I think I'm going to have to go apologize to Kenpachi," the red head whimpered, taking the glass of water and medicine and sitting up as slowly as possible to keep the room from spinning. "But if I go like this he'll beat my ass into next Friday."

Toshiro sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "You would have earned it, if it does come to that," he oh so unhelpfully supplied. "But something tells me he's probably not all that worried about Ayasegawa's black eye. He's probably proud of the man for actually getting into a fight for once."

Ichigo shrugged, still kneading his aching head as he sat. "Still, I should go and make a formal apology. It's good for Captains to do that kind of thing, right?"

Toshiro did nod to that. "Yes, you are quite right on that one. But, if it makes you feel any better, I'll accompany you to the 11th Division, just to make sure Kenpachi doesn't interfere with our arrangements for next Friday." Ichigo smiled at the comment, but Toshiro wasn't quite finished. "But only on one condition."

Ichigo looked at him curiously. "Oh?" he said. "And that is?"

"That you start drinking less. I find drunk people rather unattractive, even if they are my own spouse."

Toshiro dodged just in time the pillow that had been thrown at his head, ducking out of the room where said hung over spouse could not follow in any sort of speedy fashion.

**5: Paranoia**

"I just don't get it," Ichigo admitted to Matsumoto one day whilst waiting in the 10th Division office for Toshiro to return. He'd gone to a short meeting with Byakuya, and had insured that he would be back shortly. But, in that short time, Ichigo figured he might as well ask something of one of the people that knew Toshiro best. Or, rather, one of the _remaining_ people that knew Toshiro best.

"What don't you get, Ichigo?" she'd asked him. He'd long ago let her forsake the need to call him by his actual title.

"Just this thing that Toshiro does," Ichigo continued, thrumming his fingers against the arm of the sofa he was currently occupying. "He always says he's sorry for things. It's like he's paranoid that he's done something wrong. He never does, but I can't seem to ever get him to feel like he hasn't."

Rangiku merely nodded, apparently understanding where Ichigo's observation was rooted. "I can tell you why he does that," she said, leaning back in her chair, perching her feet on her desk. Where, for once, she had actually been working. "He started doing that shortly after Momo left the 4th Division after Aizen tried to kill her. She would always come calling on him, asking him to save Aizen or any other number of things."

Ichigo blinked in amazement, his full attention on Toshiro's voluptuous Lieutenant. "You've gotta be kidding me," he barked. "How could she ask something like that of him when she knows the bastard attacked Toshiro too?"

Matsumoto just shook her head. "I don't know, Ichigo. I don't know what thoughts were going through her head at that point, but what I do know is that she didn't care how they affected other people. As long as they saved her Captain Aizen, it didn't matter how much it was hurting the people she was getting help from. But every time, when Toshiro would try to explain to her why he couldn't, or why he wouldn't, she wouldn't listen. She'd break out into hysteric fits, and he'd be left to blame." The ginger haired woman sighed. "That's what he thought, anyway. That's why he's always apologetic when he thinks he's said something wrong; he's so used to Momo's hysterics that he's paranoid he's going to make someone else react in the same way."

Ichigo swore to himself, trying to wipe an unhappy scowl off his face. "So I can understand your frustration, Ichigo," the older woman continued, and Ichigo looked back to her in order to keep himself from his own thoughts. "That's why I tried to start being a good friend to Momo; so that she could lean on someone else other than my Captain. She didn't know it, but she was tearing him apart."

Sighing then himself, Ichigo let his head roll back over his shoulders as he sighed. "What a mess," he said from his topsy-turvy position. "It's going to take more than a couple years of her being dead for him to get rid of that paranoia isn't it?"

Rangiku shrugged, taking her feet down and making to return to her short stack of work. "Maybe," she said, but then a smile lingered on her face. "But I can tell you one thing, Ichigo."

"What?"

"You loving him anyway is the best thing you could do to help him get over that paranoia."

"I think I can do that."

**6: Sign**

To be quite honest, the signs were rather hard to ignore. Ichigo could imagine that for Toshiro especially they were hard to ignore, but he knew that he himself had a hard time not paying attention to the subtle signs that Toshiro's body was giving out. It seemed that his skin would give off a healthy glow, his hair would shine in the sunlight like fresh powder atop a lonely mountain. He would seem to smile more, even if it meant getting one more dazzling smirk into his day.

But Ichigo had to admit that it also just could have been all in his head, because up until the second he got home from work on Fridays, there was only ever one thing on his mind, and it very well could have been augmenting his judgment.

**7: Subtle**

"I think that I would enjoy further opportunities to enjoy your company," was Toshiro's wordy, subtle way of saying, "I'd like to see more of you."

Ichigo kissing him goodbye was his own wordless, not-so-subtle way of saying, "Damn right you'll be seeing more of me."

**8: There**

Ichigo swore numerous times throughout his tumultuous life that he was going to die. He'd come to that conclusion many times through near-misses, where only strokes of luck or fortune had saved him. But this time, he had been outright convinced that he'd be lost to the great forever that was true death. The battle had razed everything in sight to the ground and beyond, decimating anything and anyone that got in the way.

He had been in the way when it all went black for him, and even his usually optimistic mind had admitted to the grim defeat that he was probably never going to rise again from this battle in particular.

But he'd been proven wrong, much to his great surprise, when he woke bleary-eyed some time later, cooped up in the 4th Division hospital. He'd taken his good old sweet time coming into consciousness, dull pain thrumming through his body underneath the haze of numbing kidou and medicine. He'd pulled his eyes open slowly, blinded for a long moment by the encompassing colors that made up the much nicer Captains' rooms designated in a quiet wing of the 4th. He'd sagely resisted the urge to sit up, instead letting his eyes do more wandering for him before he did anything so stupid.

When a flash of white caught his sullied attention, he couldn't help but feel his lagging heart thrill in his torn chest. There, sitting in a chair perched right next to his bed, sat Toshiro. His bare and narrow arms were wrapped around his bandaged chest, his chin sagging against his own shoulder as he slept doggedly in probably the most uncomfortable position possible. But there were shaggy shadows beneath his eyes, and there was still a fresh tear in his lip from the battle they'd both just barely survived.

But the complimentary fact remained that Toshiro, in spite of probably not having earned a clean bill of health, was there at his bedside, waiting for him. Heartened by the other man's faith in his recovery, Ichigo had reached out a stiff arm to brush his knuckles against a narrow leg. He hadn't intended to wake the other with the gesture; rather hoping that he could just affirm that this dream of life was not just that.

Unfortunately, much against his intent, Toshiro had stirred, his eyes dragging open from underneath lead-heavy eyelids. He'd glanced around blearily, probably much like Ichigo had, finally settling on the hand that still rested on his leg. His eyes shot over to Ichigo's face, relief dancing like sunlight through those now brightened blue eyes. But much to Ichigo's worry, the tire remained, even past that pleasure.

"Welcome back," Toshiro said, leaning forward stiffly and scooping Ichigo's hand into his own. He held Ichigo's hand to his chest, as if cherishing it. He kissed Ichigo's scraped knuckles gently, lacing their fingers together. Then his striking eyes returned to his partner, a ragged smile pealing at his poor torn lips. "I knew you'd make it."

Ichigo brushed his thumb across Toshiro's cool hand, his heart thundering strangely in his throat. "I thought I was a goner," he admitted, looking at his saddened spouse apologetically. His voice was harsh and coarse, and he could now feel the stiffness of more bandaging striking up against his neck. "I didn't know if I was going to make it back." He looked at Toshiro, his grip tightening as much as his weathered body could allow. A tear brimmed at his eye, and he bit in a shaky breath. "But you waited there for me."

Toshiro's smile remained, and he leaned forward, kissing Ichigo as softly as the landing of a feather on his tarnished skin on his brow. "Of course I waited," he said, attempting to settle himself back into his chair. But Ichigo's other hand tucked up, cupping Toshiro's neck and keeping him bent over his bed-ridden partner.

"Come here," he said quietly, watching the face mere inches from his own. He could feel the muscles in Toshiro's back quaking from the effort of staying half-standing, and guilt thrummed through him at the thought of having to selfishly pinned the other to him. Especially considering the other was probably quite injured himself.

But Toshiro consented, sitting himself down on the edge of the wide bed. Ichigo pulled his torso down gently, trying to coax him to just come and lay down as he had on so many Sunday mornings before. Toshiro caught the drift, as he always had, and, with some difficulty, slung his narrow legs up onto the bed and settled himself as comfortably as possible against Ichigo's side. Toshiro's head lay heavily against his shoulder, and he bent his neck down, curling to kiss at Toshiro's now very close face. Slowly, he hedged towards the torn lip the other was sporting, before gently bestowing a ginger kiss to it.

"I'll always be there for you, Ichigo," Toshiro said against his lips just as they'd barely separated from the careful gesture. Ichigo's hand pressed against Toshiro's hip, turning them just that little bit extra so that they were lying on their sides, pressed face to face. One of the snowy haired Captain's arms instinctively trailed over Ichigo's side, his other arm curling beneath his head for support. "Regardless of what may happen."

Again, Ichigo's words caught in a shaky breath before he could speak. "I know, babe," he said, his arms embracing gently yet possessively around the other man's narrow frame. "I just worry about how well I'm able to be there for you."

**9: Grain**

Going against the grain had been something Ichigo had made a habit of doing in his life. He did it naturally, most of the time, but sometimes chose to be froward just to make things more interesting if only for himself. However, he had learned the hard way that there was one person's personal grain that he did not rub against.

Ironically, it was his spouse's.

But the reason as to why he didn't rub against that grain was because he was continually petrified of the other going away because of it. And as much as he would be loathe to admit it, the idea of Toshiro being anywhere but at his side scared the holy living daylights out of him. So, he went along with Toshiro's personal grain most of the time, and was, most of the time, rewarded quite royally for doing so.

**10: Outrageous**

"Hey, I've got an outrageous idea."

Toshiro rolled his eyes, flicking his book closed. "Kurosaki, your ideas are _always_ outrageous," he said, before finally giving into the bait the other had been trying to tantalize him with. "But, regardless of that fact, what is your outrageous idea?"

"How about I take you out to the nicest restaurant in town for dinner? I'll buy," he said, smirking at Toshiro's unamused expression. It was one of his cutest, if anyone ever cared to ask Ichigo's opinion. "What do you say?"

"I'd say that is an outrageous idea," Toshiro affirmed, nearly turning back to his book. "Why on earth would you want to do such a thing anyway?"

Ichigo strode over to where the other was sitting on his couch, pulling the other up by his bicep to stand next to him. "Because," he said, a wide smile on his lips, "I'm asking you out on a date."

Toshiro's outrageous blush was well worth the previous criticism.

* * *

-I wrote these in less than a day, I think. Just over twelve hours, which is pretty impressive considering I did sleep during some of those twelve hours. Not too bad, I don't think. I really enjoyed these drabbles, as made apparent by the fact that I wrote them so quickly. Thanks to SillyWQ for giving me these prompts; I hope you liked them, dear! Anyway, I'm still taking prompt donations, so feel free to give me some if you have any in mind.

8-90s love,

crypto


	4. Set 4: Provided by kaisamalleen

-Alright, another set of drabbles out of the way. I probably should stop this, considering I have final exams in a week, but I can't help myself! And I should update Reign of Blue fire… and try to stomach my way through the extended last chapter of Gilded Silver… but I'll procrastinate just a bit longer to give you guys this set of drabbles. Enjoy!

* * *

**1: Painting**

"What on earth is that face for?" Ichigo asked from his position leaning against their kitchen counter, watching the rice-cooker do its magical work. Toshiro had walked in with a very strange expression indeed, one that demanded explanation from his spouse.

Toshiro sat himself down at their table, shaking his head and rubbing at his forehead. "Apparently Lieutenant Kusajishi has taken up painting," he said, his voice rather shaky.

For the life of him, Ichigo could not imagine _why_.

Upon receiving another demanding glance from Ichigo, Toshiro elaborated. "Nude paintings, in particular."

Ichigo spluttered with laughter. "You must be kidding!" Toshiro shook his head, denying the fact that he was kidding. "How did you find out about it?"

"Because," Toshiro said, burying his face in his hands, "she asked me to be one of her models."

**2: Serenity**

Serenity was something that Toshiro rarely was gifted with. He'd like to think that he himself was usually quite tranquil, but the fact that he was coerced into not being tranquil by the outstanding factors in his life. Paperwork, subordinates, battle, his own husband, all of it drove him from that quiet place within himself to another louder one that bustled as much as he did.

But, with that knowledge in mind, he made a habit of finding tranquility and serenity wherever he could find it. Whether it was by meditating, reading, or doing something else, he always returned himself to that quiet place where he could hear Hyorinmaru's breathing and let his tension settle out.

Strangely enough, he often found that tranquility within the confines of his own home, especially when Ichigo was at home with them. They didn't need to be doing anything, or even be speaking to one another. They could just be in each other's presence, and all of his daily tensions would wind away, leaving his pliable mellowness at the disposal of Ichigo's mood.

But, thankfully, the majority of the time Ichigo didn't abuse that pliability, and just took the time to enjoy the silence himself, letting Toshiro's serenity ebb off onto him to get him to relax into that same mellow state.

**3: Obstruction**

"Toshiro," the other begged quietly, knocking a knuckle against the bathroom door, "please let me in."

"I would prefer it if you didn't come in, Ichigo." His voice wasn't shaking, but Ichigo could tell that Toshiro was well beyond the point of bothered by something or another. "I'm not feeling particularly well."

Ichigo leaned his forehead against the door, praying that it wasn't anything serious. But he had a sinking feeling in his heart that it was serious, and that the door in his way was the only thing keeping him from helping his beloved through whatever it was. "Please open the door," he pleaded.

He heard Toshiro sigh. "It isn't locked, you know."

Ichigo had to admit that he was rather surprised at that, but was glad that he had asked permission to enter anyway. It gave Toshiro a moment to collect himself if he needed to, which he was sure the smaller man would appreciate. He turned the knob, pushing the door open and peeking in carefully before setting foot inside. Toshiro didn't look particularly haggard. He was just leaning against one of the tile walls, his arms slung over his knees and his fingers fiddling with themselves as he sat. But there was a distance in his eyes that alerted Ichigo that the turmoil was internal.

He walked forward, sitting himself down next to the man. He looked at him, his brows raised in worry at Toshiro's continual lack of proper response. He brushed his knuckles against Toshiro's cheek, and the other leaned into the gesture gently, closing his eyes. Ichigo's hand opened, his fingers splaying to cup the small cheek carefully.

"What's the matter?" he asked, brushing the pad of his thumb over a high cheekbone.

Toshiro sighed against his hand, a bit tiredly. "I've just been contemplating some things. I'm sorry if I've worried you." His voice sounded so hollow that it scared Ichigo, so badly that he drew the other into his arms and further into his lap.

Once settled there, Ichigo tightened the embrace, burying his face in the crook of Toshiro's neck. "You're worrying me more by dodging the topic," he said, talking against Toshiro's pale neck.

He heard Toshiro chuckle humorlessly. He couldn't tell if that was progress or not. "I guess I can't really hide anything from you, can I?"

"I would hope that you didn't feel the need to," he said, rather glumly.

"I'm sorry," Toshiro said, this time with a bit more of his usual honesty. "It's just… I was faced with a rather difficult topic today." He curled under Ichigo's chin, snuggling backward into his husband's chest, and gripping at Ichigo's arms.

Ichigo looked at him, concerned. Not much was difficult for Toshiro to handle, especially considering the man had skin thick as lead, so he had a hard time imagining what could have made him so dour as to hide away in their bathroom after having returned home. "What is it?" he asked, trying to urge the other on just enough to get him to speak.

Toshiro nuzzled his head under Ichigo's chin at that point, apparently trying to make himself as small as possible. "I had one of the seated officers from one of the other squads ask me today… whether or not it was true if I was a murderer."

Ichigo was stunned into silence, his mind jumping exactly to what the foolish subordinate had been asking about. The entire case with Kusaka had been made public (to a point) after his return, and quite frankly Ichigo had been amazed that Toshiro's reputation had remained so untarnished. But this resurrection of that sore old topic, in such a crude way, he could totally understand why Toshiro was upset.

Ichigo didn't care what Toshiro had said in response to the subordinate, already knowing the truth well enough for what it was. He shook his head, letting Toshiro be nuzzled beneath his chin. "I'm sorry, babe," he said, a hand brushing at the smaller Captain's neck.

He was most sorry for the fact that, in spite of hundreds of years having passed between them and that horrible span of time in their lives, that the obstacle of getting around and over it had not yet passed. And that the process was still painful was a hard pill to swallow indeed.

**4: Finite**

"Good lord, Toshiro," Ichigo said, gawking at the menagerie of tiny gears that were strewn across their kitchen table. He glanced at all of them curiously, not wanting to touch any lest he disturb some kind of organization that Toshiro had set up. "What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm building a watch," his spouse informed him simply, working with the tiny gears so deftly in his hands that it made Ichigo wonder if he hadn't done it before. He would have been unable to do the task himself; considering the finite parts would have been beyond his grasp to keep from breaking.

"Yes, I can see that," he said, shaking his head and sitting down. "Why?"

"If you want to get into finite reasoning, it's because my Seventh Seat's birthday is coming up, and considering how much she's done for us in the past, I considered this to be an applicable gift."

**5: Ascension**

With Toshiro's death still lingering in his mind, Ichigo had come to the conclusion that life, if it existed beyond that pivotal moment, was only a slow winding descent to a future he didn't want. He'd wept for need of a future that promised ascension to something better; a future that he'd been chasing after with Toshiro in his hand. But as ash through a fisted hand, he'd slipped away, just like that.

And more than anything, that was what hurt the most, was the fact that he'd slipped away so easily, leaving Ichigo's dreams of a life ascended from pain and suffering buried in the ashes that remained as history's markers of their love.

**6: Original**

Ichigo was never really afraid to face enemies who had copying abilities. He could anticipate who they would choose to mimic every time, and every time he would know how to break down their illusion in order to return to the original.

Because they'd always choose Toshiro, thinking the white haired man to be his greatest weakness. And he'd be able to weed every single one of them out by asking questions of them that only Toshiro would know.

Most of them about Toshiro's subtle sexual preferences, which left most clones spluttering and blushing, and a dead giveaway.

**7: Curtain-Fall**

"Renji!" he bellowed out through the rain, his compatriot turning at the sound of his name. The battle raged through the skies above Karakura, a thunderhead of war exploding over the city as the struggling stalemate burst to a close. A jagged cut above his brow bled down over one side of his face, successfully blinding him on that side almost entirely, save for the silver of a painful squint he could get away with. His other eye was wide open and searching, ignoring the pain his body was insisting he was in as the storm throwing chaos above them threw his senses into a jumble.

They'd all been fighting for so long, and it still didn't look like there was any hope of stopping anytime soon. His hands were shaking as they gripped Zangetsu's hilt, the lighter bankai blade a nice relief compared to his normal sword, if not for the drain on his power. He was wearing thin, and from the looks of Renji, he wasn't faring horribly well himself.

"What is it, Ichigo?" the red head bellowed back, wiping a streak of blood away from his lip. Zabimaru looked heavy in his hands, but Ichigo knew that now there was nothing to be done; they fought until they fell, or until one side won out over the other. But at the rate the fight was dragging along, it seemed that neither side was going to win, and that both were going to collapse in on themselves before any side could claim victory.

"Where is he?" he yelled, worry beginning to bear down on his nerves. The battle had spread wider than his blunted senses could follow, and even though he'd become quite adept at sensing his husband's spiritual pressure over long distances, the other had apparently moved out of his capability's range. And, had he been faring better in his own battles, he wouldn't have been as worried. But with how taxing it had all become, he was beginning to worry for Toshiro's safety, especially considering he hadn't been able to feel the man for some time.

Renji paused, panting as he tried to concentrate. Ichigo let him, not wanting to rush him, but knowing that they really didn't have much time. Time had been something that had been washing away with the rain as it fell, through his fingers without remorse and against him with a grudge.

Renji's panicked look didn't do much to quell Ichigo's fear, but before a word could exit the other man's mouth, a heaven piercing roar sounded over the clouds. Ichigo froze, recognizing the cry of Hyorinmaru anywhere. He whirled, hoping to see some trace of the dragon, because the earnest agony in its cry had set his heart to thundering.

But again, before he could do anything, the sky broke open with a deafening crack, the maw in the sky erupting with a familiar avalanche of snow. _Hyoten Hyakkaso_'s release sent the temperature plummeting, promptly causing the rain drenching all of them to freeze into a tearing blizzard, a violet white-out falling over the city.

But Ichigo couldn't have cared less about the weather; the fact that Toshiro had been forced into even using _Hyoten Hyakkaso_ was what had disturbed him so, Hyorinmaru's agonized cry not helping to quell those unabashed fears. Leaving Renji to his own devices, he trailed after the closing tear in the black curtain of the sky, knowing that wherever the snow fell was where Toshiro needed it to.

Before he could make a close enough approach to even have to look, a tower of bursting ice petals rose in a column into the sky. But then, much to Ichigo's surprise and dread, more towers of ice flowers began to blossom. A second one rose, followed by a third, a fourth eventually climbing up after its predecessors. Apparently Toshiro's targets had fallen, because as soon as the last flower had bloomed on the last column, the entire area encompassing the space fell into an eerie, complete silence.

When Ichigo arrived, he felt like he was looking upon the remnants of a nuclear winter; everything so still and silent that life itself seemed to be fled from the place. But when a faint screaming reached his ears, Ichigo knew that the time for watching the chaos was over. It was back to being a part of it, after the split second of silence.

Rushing forward through the snow and ice, he bolted to the wavering location of Toshiro's spiritual pressure. The lack thereof disconcerted him greatly, and were it not for the fact that Toshiro was making some manner of sound, he wasn't sure if he would have been able to even locate him.

When he did, his gut twisted painfully. Toshiro was unsurprisingly collapsed, the monstrous amount of spiritual pressure displaced by _Hyoten Hyakkaso_'s release having understandably drained most of his power away. His once pristine white haori lay clinging in tattered shreds to his body, wounds gaping wide to the cold through the clothing's holes. But, much to Ichigo's surprise, he could see Toshiro trying to push himself up, his shoulders shaking from the very strain of trying to do so.

He rushed forward, catching the toiling frame by catching him under his arms. Toshiro was hissing in pain, and as Ichigo helped haul him up, a loud clattering greeted his ears. Hyorinmaru had fallen from Toshiro's grasp, lying blood-stained and battered on the bloodied ground where Toshiro had just been.

Ichigo then glanced down at Toshiro, whose head was leaning heavily against his shoulder as he tried to support himself on his own wavering legs. Ichigo didn't let go, knowing that if he did the other would surely fall. But he noticed then how only one of Toshiro's arms was grasping at him for support. His left hand was clenched around Ichigo's own bloodied haori with a white knuckled grip. The other arm, his right, lay lax against his side. His pale hand was peeking out from beyond the split sleeve, his fingers coated and dripping with blood.

"Come on, Toshiro," he said to his agonized spouse, his heart wrenching as he tried to pull the other up into a better standing position. "Put your other arms over my shoulder and we'll get you out of here. I'll carry you out, and we'll be done with this." He hated to be potentially lying to Toshiro, knowing that beyond the wreckage Hyorinmaru had made was probably even more gruesome fighting. But he had to get the other out and to some kind of help; and probably himself to some help too, considering he could scarcely tell the difference between what was his blood gathering on the ground or Toshiro's.

"I can't," Toshiro choked out against his neck. His body tensed, and he turned his head away from Ichigo as he coughed harshly. His left hand let go of Ichigo's haori in order to grasp at his own stomach, his legs folding beneath him. In the span of that panicking split second, Ichigo's hands shot forward, kneeling swiftly in order to at least steady some of the other's fall. He only half succeeded, but ended up having managed to catch most of Toshiro's torso in the confines of his lap, as the other heaved out wetly rasping breaths.

This entire battle needed to end, lest its toll on all of them end in a death toll greater than they could recover from.

He let Toshiro lay there for a moment, letting the smaller man attempt to catch his breath as he attempted to quell the stress with whispered assurances. The gasping breath lingered, much to Ichigo's dismay, and he began to feel his own weariness compound on him the longer he sat. He hadn't realized just how far he'd pushed himself until he'd gotten the moment to actually feel it. He'd been so numbed by adrenaline for so long that his body was drained and hollow, and he was slowly curling over his spouse as his shoulders sagged. He was only barely clinging to the rung of functioning that Toshiro had fallen from, only by not being totally beyond himself with pain.

But he knew that the more he sat and waited and thought, the worse it would seem. Trying to draw himself back up, Ichigo cradled Toshiro's head gently, trying to draw the other from his hyperventilating. At the rate he was breathing he was going to black out any second, and Ichigo couldn't let that happen with the state the rest of Toshiro's body was in. He patted the other man's flaxen cheek, talking down to him quietly. "Come on, 'Shiro," he said, hoping to get a rise out of the man by using his much-loathed nickname.

His husband's face contorted in misery, his white brows ticking with strain as his eyes struggled open. Those teal orbs looked up at him, and he realized with a hard lump in his throat that Toshiro must have taken a hard strike around the eye, because in one eye, blood had dyed the white of his eye an angry red. "I'm… trying," he grit out, his chest checking with what was probably about to be another fit of coughing. Ichigo pressed a firm hand to the smaller man's chest, trying to calm him as he had to use his other arm to keep even himself propped up.

This quiet moment was killing the both of them.

Ichigo glanced down, seeing that Toshiro's left hand was clenched in a tight fist against his stomach, shaking with strain. Risking a glance at the right hand, he realized that it was just as it had been; completely lax. It was as if it were ignoring the rest of Toshiro's body's impulses, and Ichigo's worry burned a bit more fiercely. Once he was sure Toshiro's breath had steadied some, but in compensation for his eyes shutting back closed, he reached over with his free hand to grasp at Toshiro's arm. He really wanted to make sure that it wasn't broken, but he doubted it, seeing as the Captain had suffered worse and not reacted nearly so severely.

The only issue was that the second he even touched the lax arm, it set Toshiro to whimpering in agony. Ichigo looked down at his husband's face, now very much afraid of what he had done. But Toshiro's voice was apparently caught in his bruised throat, and thus could give Ichigo no verbal answer. With no voice to tell him where he'd gone wrong, Ichigo could only move forward, trying gingerly to discern what was giving his love such great pain.

During his ginger searching, deftly avoiding touching the arm with even the most ginger of touches and instead trying to pry away the shihakusho sleeve, Ichigo became aware of just how damaged the sleeve was. It was, in fact, torn completely from the pit of the arm all the way down the end of the sleeve in a straight line. It was practically following the hem of the sleeve itself.

Prying the torn sleeve off, Ichigo realized just what it was that had caused Toshiro to whimper at even the most ginger touch. There was a long, clean, deep gash running along the soft underside of his arm, straight from the underside of his bicep all the way down to his hand, trailing up over the base of the thumb to end between two of his knuckles. Ichigo swallowed hard, understanding now why Toshiro was so beyond himself. Blood loss was probably the predominant factor, considering the cut ran along one of the major arteries in the forearm. But also because, it seemed, Toshiro had been forced to wield his sword with such a grievously wounded arm. The thought of the wounded muscles trying to hold anything made Ichigo's head spin, let alone a tight enough sword grip. He pushed the gruesome thoughts out of his head as to how exactly Toshiro had managed with sliced tendons, and tried to think of a solution to his imminent issue of Toshiro's dwindling health. The release of _Hyoten Hyakkaso_ must have been a last ditch effort to defeat his enemies before he himself fell, and that thought saddened Ichigo greatly.

Shirking off his own torn Captain's haori, his body shivered at the cold. But the cold was the least of his worries. He had enough energy left to get them out of the tundra-esque wasteland, so if he hurried well enough it would cease to be an issue. His primary concern was to keep Toshiro from blacking out on him, which meant more than probably that the other would not wake, lest they get him to medical assistance within the microscopic window of time that they could properly revive him. Needless to say, it would be best if he could just get Toshiro to hold onto consciousness for as long as he could, so that microscopic window would be left at a probable amount of time.

"Toshiro," he said between biting off long strips of the once white material with his teeth. He'd had enough experience with his father to know how to bandage just firmly enough without cutting off circulation, which would be crucial for a deep wound like this one. The other's heaving breath wasn't calming any, and Ichigo had trouble deciding whether that was good or bad. If it was slowing, it meant that Toshiro's slow fight against his wounds was being lost. But if it remained at the pace he was going at, the threat of overstressing himself was high. In other words, he was sitting on a hair-trigger, and had no time to choose which alternative was best. "I'm going to move your arm so I can bandage it. Please hold still, I'll work as fast as I can."

He saw the man's functioning hand get a hold of a fistful of his own torn shihakusho, trying to prepare himself for the oncoming pain. Ichigo sighed, finishing tearing off what he believed to be enough strips before gingerly setting them down next to him. He lifted Toshiro's damaged arm, trying to ignore the full body wince that made Toshiro's body shake against his own. But those pale lips remained quiet, save for their fevered breathing as he set to work.

It was a slow and grueling process, and in Ichigo's mind it seemed to drag on forever. He could only guess that it seemed equally grueling for Toshiro, whose body it was he was likely inflicting pain upon. But he took his time, knowing that if he wrapped carelessly or hurriedly, it would cause more harm than good. And in spite of the incentive his frigidly stiff fingers were giving him to hurry up, he resisted, taking every inch of the way with serious care. Halfway done with the arm, Ichigo looked down, seeing with a bit of dismay that Toshiro's ragged breathing had slowed. But the fact that he still flinched every once in a while let Ichigo know that he was still there, and still marginally cognizant.

When at last he finished, he'd just run out of bandaging strips. He would have liked to wrap Toshiro's hand, but knew that there really was no good way to do so. And considering his haori really didn't have much more to offer, he decided against trying to tear off enough for another strip in favor of collecting his spouse and getting them both out of there.

He looked down again, seeing that Toshiro's breathing had slowed even more, down to a whispering sigh. He set Toshiro's bandaged arm down gently next to him, noting grimly how the wound continued to bleed into his impromptu bandaging job. He stroked his spouse's face gently, but this time was not successful in rousing him so easily. He tried again at patting the other's cheek, getting a twitch as a response, but no awakening. "Come on, Toshiro," he said, pushing the other up into a sitting position. That did succeed in waking him, thankfully, and Ichigo stepped in front of him, picking the other up by his skinny thighs and letting him rest on his back as he stood. Toshiro's good arm wrapped over Ichigo's shoulder to keep himself rooted, his wounded one pressed between the two of them.

"Where are we going to go?"

Ichigo was rather surprised at the question. Or, rather, Toshiro's ability to even ask the question. He couldn't tell if the other was asking seriously, or out of delirium, but he knew that either way an answer was necessary.

Unfortunately, his honest answer was that he didn't know. But he didn't want to tell Toshiro that; the ailing man didn't need that kind of grim outlook. Thankfully, before Ichigo needed to explain further, he noticed something. Far off in the sky, far above where Karakura's skyscrapers reached, blue sky began to peek through the clouds. He'd known from the beginning that the clouds had not been of Toshiro's making. Even if they did serve useful to him, he had not been the one to instigate their appearance. They'd been brought by Aizen, and all of his insidious intentions. But now, it seemed, they were fading, heralding the shearing of the curtain that had promised to fall on them all.

"We're going to go home," he said, beginning his slow trek through the snow in an attempt to find Captain Unohana as soon as possible. He was expecting Toshiro to answer in some manner, but when he was not responded to that was proven incorrect. He glanced back, finding Toshiro's snowy head laying despondently against his shoulder. He quickened his pace, knowing that he'd postponed his hair-trigger minute for as long as he could, as well as having outlasted the falling of the curtain.

He could only hope from there on out that things got easier, because if they got any harder, it meant that next time, he wouldn't be walking away from the battlefield with Toshiro in his arms. Or, rather, he wouldn't be walking away from the battlefield at all.

**8: Due**

When Toshiro was close to being due, Ichigo became the most obnoxiously doting husband probably in the history of _ever_. To the point that it quite openly irked Toshiro at times, but not enough to keep him from completely shooing the other away, knowing the bruised pride would far outlast any minor frustration.

But Ichigo's most potent habit during that anxious time was to jump at least three feet in the air at every little move Toshiro made. He was probably thinking all of them to be some kind of strange precursors to labor, which he had honestly informed Toshiro he had no intention of being involved with himself. He didn't trust himself, he told Toshiro, and trusted Captain Unohana to do such things considering his mental state was frazzled at best.

So, during that time, Toshiro had gotten into the habit of fake-sneezing at random intervals, just to see how far in the air he could get Ichigo to jump.

**9: Electric**

There were some nights when they strayed from their Friday night standard. It probably wasn't intentional most of the time, but usually started about the exact same way every time they deviated. It would always start with Ichigo touching Toshiro's shoulder as he clambered into bed. And the second he did, both would pause at the sudden jolt of electricity that would bolt through the both of them. They would turn to each other, and things would only unravel from there.

Toshiro blamed Ichigo once, in good humor, that he needed to stop being such a god-damn powerhouse all the time, and that their constant electric chemistry was what wore him out all the time.

* * *

-12 hours later… and I'm at it again. Someone please make me go to class, work, do _something_. Because I don't think this is healthy… writing almost nine thousand words in one day. Shoot me, maybe, put me out of my misery. But the only issue with that is that then I wouldn't get all of my projects done, and I have loans to pay, and books I want to write, and… eh. Whatever. I'll just muddle through anyway. I don't have many notes on this set, save for the behemoth that is number 7: Curtain-Fall. Here is my comment: ..FUCK. I started that darn little drabble with a song in my head and a scene at my fingers, and it turned into this gargantuan THING that ate up three thousand words of this set. God I hope you're happy, kaisamalleen, because that one really did just about strangle me. Seriously, I think it has a mind of its own, now, and one of these days it's going to walk off my keyboard and bludgeon me over the head with my stuffed dolphin. And that will be the end of that. Anyway, still taking donations, shoot some at me if you have any ideas, and I'll see you… when next I drag myself onto these poor abused keys.

8-90s love,

crypto


	5. Set 5: Provided by KaiChan94

-I think I have an addiction issue. With my keyboard. I just can't drag myself away from it! Probably unhealthy, probably should be working on my anthropology final essay, probably not going to happen. So, I'll write these drabbles instead! That, and before I move onto my bigger projects I want to get these two little drabbles done. My next set is a big one, so I'll probably update RBF before I post that set. Oh, and just to give you all a warning, I am probably going to change the title of RBF to better suit its sequel, so it will probably not be Reign of Blue Fire for much longer. Just thought I'd let you know. Thanks to my reviewers, thanks to those who read this, and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**1: Dance**

Though Toshiro had definitely taken Ichigo through his paces when it came to fast-paced, intricate dancing, Ichigo still had Toshiro beat in regards to one aspect of dancing. Ichigo slow danced like a pro, waltzing with every swinging step so memorized they may have as well been etched into his skin. And though he and Toshiro didn't get the chance to dance often, and when they did it was usually in the World of the Living at some fast-paced rave, he did enjoy making the other man slow down every once in a while.

On one such occasion, they'd taken their slow time whilst sitting out in their back yard one evening. It was early spring, and the cherry blossoms were on their last few beautiful days of blooming. They'd been watching the blossoms before Ichigo had gotten the idea, sitting contentedly in their shared silence until Ichigo pulled Toshiro to stand.

He had been slowly teaching Toshiro the art of not dancing like a Broadway star, and was quite pleased at his spouse's progress. But the fact was that Toshiro was still unused to it, and was thus always rather timid when he and Ichigo took up practicing. So when Ichigo wrapped an arm around Toshiro's hip, his other hand lacing with Toshiro's, there was a faint, sakura pink blush on Toshiro's cheek. Apparently he thought the gesture of dancing under the cherry blossoms as romantic a concept as Ichigo did, but his larger husband just smiled good naturedly and led in the slow waltz as Toshiro's other hand settled on his shoulder.

"You know where I learned to do this?" he said after a while, Toshiro coming back into his arms from a twirl that Ichigo had put him through. Toshiro's paces were gentle, but getting a bit more confident every time.

Toshiro hummed at him as they resettled to their original waltzing position, his shyness washed away. Ichigo tugged Toshiro's hip closer, so that they were dancing as close to each other as they could manage. Ichigo's footwork slowed, his paces shortening to keep the other as close as possible. He could tell that Toshiro was trying acclimate, but did his best to distract the other man from his concentrating by explaining. He rested the side of his face against the top of Toshiro's snowy head as he spoke.

"My mom and I used to do this when I was little," he explained. He could feel Toshiro stiffen for a moment, and knew that the other was instantly afraid that he'd done something wrong. In response Ichigo tightened his grip around Toshiro's narrow waist, letting the other know that his fear was unfounded. "She would just dance with me in the kitchen sometimes, or prop me up over her shoulder and dance me to sleep." He felt like a sentimental fool for saying these things, but the thoughts were on his mind at the time, and he didn't have the heart to deny them. He sighed against Toshiro's snowy hair, nuzzling his nose into his partner's scalp. "I always thought it was so nice, because I didn't every have to do anything. She would lead the steps for me, and I could just follow after her. It was like walking on air."

Toshiro's head was leaning against his neck. He could still feel some tension in Toshiro's shoulders, so he decided to put in one last comment. He pulled away for a moment, waiting for Toshiro to look up at him before smiling back down at the other man. "But now it's even better," he said, earning a curious look from the bright eyes of his partner. "Because now I can walk on air with you."

**2: Novel**

When Toshiro came home one Thursday afternoon to find Ichigo sitting at their kitchen table in front of what appeared to be a typewriter, he could honestly say that it was not what he had been expecting to return home to. He trundled into the kitchen, looking at Ichigo curiously as he thrummed his fingers against the table. He had a piece of paper loaded into the old machine, but seemed to have not written anything on it.

Toshiro settled himself by looking over Ichigo's shoulder, setting a hand on one. "So, what are you going to write?" he asked. He'd known for a long time that both he and Ichigo shared a love for Shakespeare, and knew that Ichigo, though not the most creative man in the world, had always wanted to pursue an art. He wasn't a terrible artist, and Toshiro had told him so many times, but it seemed now that his interest lay in the art of words, which Toshiro was immediately interested in.

"I don't know yet," Ichigo replied honestly, though he seemed not to be disheartened by that fact. Toshiro chuckled, deciding to sit down next to Ichigo rather than peer over his shoulder.

"You should write a memoir," he suggested, and Ichigo looked at him with a dry look. "Quite seriously," Toshiro affirmed. "You have had one of the most interesting lives of anyone I know. I'm sure that your life's story would inspire millions in generations to come. And, perhaps even make for a good historical document."

Ichigo laughed, then, apparently amused by the prospect of becoming well-published history. He leaned over, catching Toshiro's lips in a surprise kiss, before smiling warmly at his husband. "I might have an interesting life," he said, "but it's only a good one because of you."

* * *

-Ta da! Behold my two sappy moments for the day. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try and find a life. No, seriously, guys. Four sets of drabbles in forty eight hours. Over fifteen thousand words total. Something is clinically WRONG WITH ME. But… I guess it makes me happy. And, as I've been told by unofficial physician-in-training, I am getting enough vitamin D, and don't have atrophied leg muscles yet, so I should be good to go for a while at least. Blegh. Anyway, these are Kai-Chan94's drabbles, properly cited and all. Shoot me ideas if you have any, leave a review if you please, and I'll see you soon, biffles. And, a little PS to xTKx: I DID go to class today, and I still got these done. :P

8-90s love,

crypto


	6. Set 6: Provided by Scarlett Foxie

-Ugh. I've had a rough couple of days since I last updated. I came within a sneeze of getting a citation, and have to worry about paying for some repairs on a car I accidentally hit when I was trying to park my car the other day. It's really tough when people park like a bunch of crazed up crack monkeys and there's an inch of ice on the ground. Even studded snow tires have trouble gripping on that shit. Blegh. Stack that on top of the fact that I have finals next week and a Japanese oral exam tomorrow, and that makes for a very stressful day. Anyway, in spite of all that, I'm getting this new set of drabbles to you guys in an attempt to boost my own mood, because it's not that great at the moment. Hope you're all doing better than I am.

* * *

**1: X-Men**

The last thing Ichigo Kurosaki expected when he returned home that day was to have received a letter. Most notably, a letter from some man named Charles Xavier, requesting an interview with the young man regarding some intriguing reports that had been made about him. Ichigo had been impressed by the letter; the grammar had been perfect, immaculate, and professional. And, considering it had been addressed as coming from somewhere in the United States, that came as a bit of a surprise.

But, considering the offer had included air-fare and all other arrangements, he was having a hard time saying no. Especially because of the in-depth explanation that had been included in the letter. If nothing else, he thought it would be fun, and had thus sent a response in the mail the same day, indicating that he would be taking them up on their offer.

About a week later, plane tickets and travel itineraries arrived in the mail. He arranged with his father to have his clinic duties postponed for that week, claiming that he was headed to the Soul Society to check on Toshiro and stay with him for a while. He hadn't seen his romantic interest in some weeks, so the excuse came as no surprise to his father. But, in all truth, he hadn't been completely lying to his father. There was a grain of truth in what he'd said; he was going to see Toshiro, but the difference was that Toshiro, rather than being the one visited, was the one tagging along.

Because even Ichigo was not stupid enough to wander into a foreign country alone under the assumption that the assurances a letter had made were absolutely true.

They'd left Karakura the day after Toshiro arrived. Ichigo had instructed him not to bother with a gigai; the entire point of him coming was to be stealth backup, and strutting about in an albino fake body would defeat the purpose of that entirely. Toshiro hadn't complained; figuring it was a better excuse for him to keep Hyorinmaru on his person at all times. But Ichigo had managed to squeeze in some time to enjoy his boyfriend's company after they left his apartment, convincing the invisible soul to sit on his lap on the plane for the duration of their entire, rather lengthy flight. Toshiro had even fallen asleep on his shoulder at one point, which was undeniably adorable only for his personal audience, considering no one else on the plane had nearly high enough spiritual pressure to even be able to come close to seeing the small Captain.

When they did finally arrive in Maine, Ichigo couldn't deny his surprise when he got a welcoming committee. He'd been expecting a singular person with perhaps a cardboard sign with his name written on it, but nothing quite like the two men that greeted him. But by that point Toshiro had departed from his side, hanging back in the case that anyone of their supposedly "gifted" group would be able to sense his presence. He'd been wise to do so, even if it had been under Ichigo's request.

"So you must be Ichigo Kurosaki," one of the men had said to him, in surprisingly fluent Japanese. He'd nodded, settling his satchel over his shoulder a bit more comfortably. He was just glad to be standing at that point; considering he had never been fond of flying with anyone other than Toshiro and on anything other than Hyorinmaru's trustworthy wings.

"Yeah," he said, looking the man up and down curiously. He wore a rather odd pair of glasses on the bridge of his sharp nose, but that was the only thing distinguishable about him. The man next to him had a rather unsavory look on his face, and probably the largest set of mutton chops in the world, but didn't seem any different from any biker he could find on his way to Sturgis. "I'm assuming that at least one of you is this Xavier guy."

The man with the mutton chops grumbled something in English, apparently unable to follow their conversation. Ichigo knew a proficient amount of English, and smirked at his rather pouting comment as he waited for one to respond. The man with the glasses did, still speaking in Japanese. "Professor Xavier is back at the academy that was mentioned in your letter. We're here to pick you up to see that you get there." He paused, looking around Ichigo, apparently trying to find his excess luggage. Ichigo hadn't brought any, figuring he didn't really need to. He wasn't planning on staying long. "Do you have everything you brought with you?"

Ichigo was almost tempted to tell him no, but he knew that it would raise suspicions. "Yeah," he answered with a nod. "This is all I have."

The man with the glasses smiled, nodding towards the door. "Let's get going, then. Professor Xavier is expecting us soon; we don't want to keep him waiting."

Ichigo shrugged, following the two men out of the airport, his eyes slowly scanning around the airport as they left in an attempt to find Toshiro before they left. He didn't succeed, and began to worry until they approached the vehicle that the two men appeared to have brought. It was an old fashioned Mustang, and sitting on the trunk and leaning against the back windshield like he didn't have a care in the world was Toshiro.

He smirked at Ichigo, nodding to him before jumping off the vehicle as they all loaded in. Ichigo was smiling, and he was hoping that his two escorts would assume that it was because he'd never been to the country before. Which was untrue; he'd been to America before, but not the eastern coast.

When they'd finally crawled away from the hectic traffic of the airport, their speed greatly increased, the man with the massive sideburns obviously privy to the idea of getting back to this academy as soon as possible. Ichigo was sure that he was probably breaking some manner of speed limit, but didn't care. He was too busy watching the landscape swing by as they went. It slowly crawled from the grays of the city to the greens of the country, the lush forests quite different from the ones in Japan. They were quite nice, but a different biome entirely than the one he was used to seeing.

"God damn it," he heard Mutton Chops growl, an angry glance directed at the still frosted back window. The frost was slowly thawing, but Ichigo could see where it would be an issue for being able to properly see. But he was still too amused by the fact that Toshiro had gotten so gutsy to care too much, knowing that his boyfriend had probably been bored to the point of resorting to such things.

When they slowed and pulled in through a set of wrought iron gates, Ichigo's attention was drawn away from the landscape and towards their finally attained destination. The brick school towered in front of them, and he couldn't help being impressed. Apparently the "academy" was every inch of what it appeared to be; the bell tower ringing and what very much appeared to be students bustling out the front doors and about the campus' many buildings. When they pulled up around the front driveway, Ichigo slung himself out of the old fashioned vehicle with his two escorts, smiling at the passing students as many of them smiled back at him.

Apparently he'd been expected, and was somewhat of a spectacle, for once in his life not because of his hair color. He resisted the urge to glance over as Toshiro landed down next to him, this time sticking close as they entered the close-quarters building. But he walked a good few paces behind their entire group, keeping his limited spiritual pressure well reigned in to keep from causing any trouble.

He was led up through the man building of the academy into a rather large office. Where, much to his surprise, more people waited. But this group seemed far more interesting and promising than the set he'd been escorted by, at least in his own mind. Mutton Chops was still grumbling about the freak ice on the back of his windshield, but silenced quickly as they all settled into the office together. The man behind the desk at the front of the room seemed older, well bald but with a keen glint in his eyes that Ichigo almost immediately liked.

But the only issue he saw with being in such a small room with so many people was that Toshiro's spiritual pressure, though well kept, would definitely chill the room quickly. The young man was just too potent for his own good. But, Ichigo still had the hope of having this meeting end quickly, hopefully before Toshiro would even have to get involved.

"I'm honored that you accepted my invitation," the man behind the desk said, his voice surprisingly gentle. But he spoke in English, so Ichigo had to take a split second to analyze what he was saying. The man had obviously anticipated this, and waited for a moment. "My name is Charles Xavier; the man who invited you. I'd like to welcome you to my academy, and introduce you to my teaching staff."

He looked around as each person was properly introduced, trying to make a note of each but probably failing rather miserably. He was finally glad to have a name for Mutton Chops, though, because he figured if he started calling the man that, they probably wouldn't get along all too well. It also gave him an excuse to look and see where Toshiro had gone, and he eventually found the other man, leaning against a bare patch of wall a short distance away from a silver haired African American woman. When the introductions were finished, they all looked expectantly at him, and he paused for a moment, conjugating what he wanted to say.

"I'm Ichigo Kurosaki," he said, hoping his accent wasn't too atrocious. "Thanks for having me, I guess."

The room of people nodded, before Mutton Chops, whose name had just as quickly escaped him as soon as he'd heard it, made a rather barking comment to one of the younger men next to him. "God damn it, boy," he growled, and the younger boy seemed to quail for a moment. "Calm down. You're going to freeze all our asses off at this rate."

"It's not me!" the young boy defended, and Ichigo smiled, figuring that this boy's particular "talent" involved ice as well. Perfect; it was a great alibi.

"And what would you need an alibi for, Mr. Kurosaki?" Xavier asked, and Ichigo whipped around to face him, eyes going rather wide. He hadn't said anything aloud about an alibi, so how on earth had the old man known?

Xavier laughed genially, apparently intending to explain himself. "You see, Mr. Kurosaki, I was quite honest when I said that all of us here at my academy have external talents that aren't considered normal for the human species. I can see into your thoughts, Mr. Kurosaki, and I would very much appreciate an explanation as to what you need an alibi for."

The temperature in the room had dropped drastically, and Ichigo knew that Toshiro was concerned. He smiled, then, figuring that they both had some explaining to do. The rest of the room seemed surprised by his having kept something from them, and then even more so for smiling after having been caught. It was probably a rather unusual response, but he couldn't help himself. If anything, these people were certainly promising to be fun.

"I didn't come alone," he admitted, and the entire room started in hushed tones to talk. He ignored them, keeping focused on Xavier, who seemed a bit befuddled by something.

"I'm assuming that the person who accompanied you is in this room," Xavier said, earning another drop in temperature that got the entire room of people to see their breaths billowing out in front of their faces in huffs of white vapor. "But I find that I can't see him or sense him. Could you explain why?"

Ichigo laughed, shaking his head at himself as he scratched the back of his neck. Oh, how fun _this_ was going to be to try and explain. "Well, Professor, you can't see him because he's probably too powerful for you to be able to see. He is in this room, you're quite right about that, but I don't think you'll be able to see him anytime soon. We didn't bring the… uh… proper, equipment, let's say."

Xavier looked at him curiously. "Equipment?" he quoted, an intrigued tilt to his voice. "Well, Mr. Kurosaki, it seems you and I have some things to discuss. You are obviously not what I had anticipated, and neither is your friend." The man's keen gray eyes glanced about the room, apparently still unable to track where exactly Toshiro was. Which Ichigo was thankful for, as of yet. "Do you think your friend could give us a sign as to where he is? We won't cause either of you harm, I assure."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Quite honestly, I don't think you could," he said before glancing over at where Toshiro was standing. The other seemed more amused than anything now, his once fretting spiritual pressure calming somewhat, returning the room to a bearable temperature. "Come on, then, Toshiro, at least let them know you're here."

The snowy captain rolled his eyes, before resting a knuckle against the wood paneling behind his head. Frost crawled quickly across the wood, drawing into an intricate, thick, and polished form of the proper hiragana for "hello". Ichigo smiled, glancing back at Xavier, who was smiling rather widely. The rest of the room was murmuring in surprise, the smaller boy from earlier cooing over how cool it was. Mutton Chops seemed unimpressed, but couldn't keep his eyes off the frosted lettering.

"And I would agree," he said to Xavier with a smile of his own. "We do have quite a few things to talk about, I think."

**2: Snow White**

Was the first impression that Ichigo had ever gotten from Toshiro, and the mental image lingered on throughout their relationship. Even in spite of Toshiro's likelihood of throttling him if Ichigo had ever actually made the comparison aloud.

**3: 7 Dwarves**

Also in his head, Ichigo always liked to refer to Toshiro's subordinates as his dwarves. Again, upon risk of death should he ever make the analogy aloud to any of them. But after meeting Toshiro's seventh seat for the first time, he began to stop making that analogy, due to the fact that she scared the shit out of him, and he had the vague feeling that she could see into his thoughts, and would spill the beans on his little mental analogy. And that would be the end of him, for sure. So that little pair of analogies, in spite of being fun to him, had died quickly after that point.

**4: Cinderella**

There was just something ominous about the clock striking midnight. Ichigo usually made a point to be asleep by that time of night, but there were some nights when he lay awake pondering, and would sit audience to that haunting noise. One quote would ring in his ears every time he heard it, and it would set his heart to worrying.

"When the clock strikes midnight, the spell will be broken." He had always questioned himself what kind of miracle in his life could be considered wonderful enough to be a spell, but when he fell into his relationship with Toshiro, it immediately counted for the former category. And so, nearly every time he would lay awake listening to those chimes, he would end up calling Toshiro in the middle of the night, or end up going to the Soul Society just to check and make sure that he was still real, and that their relationship was still legitimate.

**5: Glass Slipper**

"Hey, if the slipper fits," Renji said, shrugging as Ichigo sat smoldering in his own blush. He'd blabbed his two biggest secrets on a whim, in front of an audience no less. But, surprisingly, even though Urahara had not been surprised, it had been Renji to recover quickest. Perhaps it was because he knew Ichigo best, and had thus suspected something all along. Or perhaps it was because he was just happy at the prospect that Ichigo had found someone worthy of being romantically interested in.

**6: Sleeping Beauty**

Ichigo had been privy to a lot of beauty in his life; probably more than his fair share, considering he'd married one of the most beautiful men in the history of the Soul Society. But there was nothing more beautiful, he thought, than when Toshiro was sleeping. Most notably on early winter nights, when the moonlight was bright against the snow and streamed in through their windows like cascades of silver water. It was like that, his face graced against the pillow and framed by his own tousled, glowing hair, that Ichigo thought him most striking.

But what made the scene thoroughly pleasing instead of just aesthetically pleasing was the fact that they shared that bed together, which meant that all that beauty belonged to Ichigo, and no one else.

**7: Spindle**

Ichigo took the wounded thumb into his mouth, licking off the dab of blood that Toshiro had drawn by accidentally having jabbed himself while darning a pair of Ichigo's shihakusho pants. He looked at the other pointedly, and Toshiro blushed as Ichigo then promptly kissed the back of the hand he had been licking.

"Careful, now, Sleeping Beauty," he said, and Toshiro smiled.

**8: Cranky Dragon**

Toshiro growled at him from beneath the covers, and Ichigo laughed lightheartedly in spite of the threatening sound. "I'm sorry," he said, leaning down to kiss his cranky dragon on an uncovered, and unceremoniously bruised shoulder. "I promise I'll be more gentle next time."

His spouse snorted, diving back beneath the covers to re-hide his shoulder. "How about next time we don't do it on the bloody floor," the dragon growled, swatting at Ichigo's face as the other tried to follow him under the covers. "Hard wood isn't exactly comfy."

**9: Prince Charming**

Toshiro never would have imagined that his prince charming would be a loud, fiery, red head human boy who had somehow managed to thaw out and steal his heart.

**10: Beauty & The Beast**

"Which is which, do you think?" Toshiro asked him one day, and Ichigo looked at him rather curiously.

"What are you talking about, Toshiro?" he asked, settling down next to his spouse to sit on the couch together.

"Which of us is the beauty and which is the beast."

"If you're thinking I'm the beauty, I may have to have you get your eyes examined, Toshiro."

**11: Ballroom Dancing**

Orihime's wedding was a joyous occasion. Ichigo was finally thankful that she'd managed to get over him somehow; muddling onto another relationship that far better suited her. He knew that her affection for him would linger probably forever, but he knew that he just couldn't return it for favor of already spending most of his time and affection devoted to his husband. But he'd accepted her invitation to her wedding with a smile, noting how both he and Toshiro had been invited. She had seemed to have had a very tough time accepting that Toshiro had swooped in and taken her place, but had finally seemed to get over the matter.

Ichigo had only convinced Toshiro to go, though, because there was ballroom dancing involved. Otherwise, Toshiro, being the genteel man that he was, wouldn't have had the heart to appear and remind Inoue of what she had lost.

**12: Sword in the Stone**

Ichigo knew that for a long time, Toshiro had been in the habit of placing his sword vertically into the ground in front of him whenever he was meditating. But he couldn't help but find it comical, when, after they'd moved into their house, he'd taken up the habit of meditating on a large flat stone they'd left in their backyard next to the Koi pond. The stone was smooth, and was probably quite comfortable to sit on. But that did not change the fact that Toshiro still stuck his sword into it every time he meditated.

And the only reason Ichigo continued to find it funny was because of the mental image of himself marching across the lawn as King Arthur to pull out the sword to earn his prize for being the only one to do so. And, after all, what better a prize could there be than Toshiro?

**13: Thumbalina**

Sometimes early on in their relationship, Ichigo was struck hard by how small Toshiro was. It wasn't a detriment in Ichigo's eyes, but it did make him worry sometimes. He knew that Toshiro was a Captain, and that he was stronger than he appeared. But that worry remained, that some great force would come along and sweep little old Toshiro right out of his hands, where Ichigo held him so gingerly next to his heart. Because sometimes the other man's shoulders, which carried so much weight, seemed so very small. As small as the eye of a needle compared to the world he carried, and it made Ichigo want to cradle that fragile balance and protect it, knowing that even a thumb's more worth of pressure would break it beyond repair.

**14: Puss-n-Boots**

Ichigo whistled low and long, looking Toshiro up and down appreciatively as the smaller man strode into the café. He was clad in a trim, faded wash pair of jeans, which hugged his lithe frame in a complimenting, yet not overtly dramatic manner. Topped by a navy suit coat, with the sleeves rolled up halfway up the forearm to reveal pinstriped silk lining, and a white collared shirt with the several of the top most buttons undone, the outfit was an eye-pleaser to be sure. But what stood out most were the sharp brown, Chelsea boots that served as the main color accent compared to the rest of the cool colors of the outfit.

"Pretty little kitty, you've got there," one of the other men in the notably homosexually oriented café commented, rather jealously as Ichigo all but scooped Toshiro to his hip to pack at his boyfriend's thin-pressed lips. Toshiro kissed back quickly, resettling his black trimmed glasses that Ichigo had set off kilter.

"Glad you decided to show," he purred into Toshiro's ear, kissing said ear after he'd finished speaking, making the other blush mildly and swat at him for the public display of affection. "Thought I was going to have to start hitting on people to pass the time."

"Very funny," Toshiro commented, rolling his eyes before looking back to Ichigo. "You called me offering to buy me a drink. I trust you're going to uphold to that offer?"

Ichigo nodded, dragging his albino boyfriend towards the coffee bar. "You bet, Puss-n-Boots, whatever you like."

**15: Mad Hatter**

"Wait, now who is it that's having this private New Year's party?" Ichigo asked one day whilst loafing on one of the sofas in the 10th Division office. Toshiro was fiddling with something on his desk. Which, for once, happened not to be paperwork.

"My seventh seat," the other said again, his tiny fingers examining the guts of the watch he'd dismantled.

"Huh." Ichigo scratched at his head, trying to think of a face or a name to associate with. But none came to mind, so he could only assume one thing. "I don't think we've met."

Toshiro shook his head, taking the hands of the watch off with fragile delicacy. "I don't believe so," he said, snorting to himself. "It should make taking you with me to the party somewhat interesting, then, if that is the case."

Ichigo watched the small fingers work, looking curiously at the other before asking what he'd meant. "And what exactly is that supposed to be implying?" he asked, finally sitting up to go watch the other toy with his contraption.

Toshiro snorted again, setting the small face of the watch aside to stare down at the tiny clockworks inside the watch. "Not much," he said honestly. "She's just mad as a hatter, that's all. It'll be interesting to see how you two get along."

"Hey, what is that supposed to mean?" He paused, examining Toshiro's work carefully before his eyebrows kicked up.

"And is that one of _my_ watches?"

**16: Wicked Queen**

"I swear, getting married may be my best and worst decision ever," Renji griped to him one day, shaking his head as he sighed to himself. "Sometimes having a wife can be a real pain. When she's PMSing she goes from being the sweetest thing since candied crack to the Wicked Witch of the West."

Ichigo was able to honestly laugh at the other man's plight. "That's what you get for choosing women, man; up and down like a roller coaster in a cartoon town. Don't get me wrong, Toshiro can be a dragon sometimes, but at least his moods don't swing in cycles or on a consistent basis. Things only bug him every once in a while."

His fellow red head laughed. "I don't know, Ichigo," he said, patting the other on the shoulder in sympathy. "I think I'd trade a hundred years of Rukia's PMSing before I would brave _one_ of Toshiro's stormy moods."

**17: Ruby Slippers**

Sometimes, Ichigo couldn't resist being cliché. It was kind of built in to the whole being a doting boyfriend thing. So, for one risky Valentine's day, he'd gotten Toshiro a red pair of house slippers. The other had looked at him curiously, wondering what on earth he'd meant by them.

"So that whenever you miss being home in my arms, you can just click your heels together and think of me."

Toshiro had groaned, but had laughed good naturedly anyway.

**18: No Place Like Home**

"What was that, Toshiro?" Ichigo asked his partner, brushing a hand over a narrow shoulder beaded with sweat as the cool once again began to settle about the room as their dwindling afterglow began to fade. Toshiro was buried against his chest, and seconds away from sleep, but answered drowsily anyway, his little hand hold onto Ichigo's gently.

"Wouldn't trade this for anything," he said, making Ichigo smile and kiss at the sweat matted hair atop his snowy head.

"Why do you say that?" Ichigo asked, his own drowsiness making him pursue the nonsensical topic because of a vague interest in what the other was thinking before they both plundered into sleep.

"Cause it's home. Couldn't ever replace it."

* * *

-Well, there we are. I'm now feeling much better, and my mood has improved somewhat since writing this set of drabbles. Truth be told, I had a tough time deciding what to do with them, considering all of them were fairy tale related. I didn't want to do the predictable thing and modify each based on the tale they came from, so I just decided to do what I usually do and run with them. I think they turned out well, in spite of being on the fly. Hope they turned out alright, Scarlett Foxie. I'm sure they weren't what you were expecting. XD I also blame techno music for the fact that most of these were kind of peppy. Just had an addiction to techno lately. Thank god for Pandora! Anyway, I have TONS of drabble sets to do, so if you guys could hold off on them for a while, that would be great. I never thought I would say that, but right now I have so many on my waiting list that I really don't have any business asking for more. So, maybe after the next couple chapters of drabbles I'll start asking for more, but I'll let you guys know when I'm ready for more. Until then, just enjoy this set, and the oncoming sets. Peace, biffles!

8-90s love,

crypto


	7. Set 7: Provided by Indigo Pheonix

-I'm going to work to get as many drabbles done by the end of this week as I can, because next week I'm going to be preoccupied with my final exams, and I'm going to be writing all of my friends' and family's Christmas presents next week, so I'm going to have to excuse myself for that week. But! Thankfully one of those writing gifts is a set of IchiHitsu Christmas drabbles. So, now I just have to finish up all the sets I have waiting before then. Which, after this drabble is still like… four sets of drabbles. x I have a lot of work to do between now and Sunday. Again, please wait on the donations; I really need to get to that Christmas set of drabbles for my friend, and I can't do that until I finish the drabbles I already have pending. Alright, this is actually a drabble donated by a personal friend of mine, Inidgo Pheonix. She told me to do something obscure with it, and most of this drabble comes from a very odd conversation we had on her dorm's common room couch. So, if it's a total non sequitur, it's meant to be that way.

* * *

**1: Beautiful**

"_Hear my words that I might teach you, Take my arms that I might reach you, But my words like silent raindrops fell, And echoed, In the wells of silence._"

Why on earth he was singing in the shower was beyond him at the time. He'd always assumed that it was just what people did in the sanctions of their own home. He'd never been enticed into doing it before, mostly because he'd always had a home or apartment close to where others lived. And, most notably, where others could hear him singing in the shower should he choose to do so. But his house with Ichigo was no such case, and thus for the first time in probably ever, Toshiro was singing in the shower without needing to fear anyone else hearing him.

Emphasis on _was_, until he realized he did in fact have an audience.

"You," a husky voice had said from _right over his bloody shoulder_, "are bloody a liar."

And had not said audience already had a pair of muscular arms wrapped around his moistened waist, Toshiro probably would have jumped through the roof at that point. But the arms kept him rooted in place, even as his heart jumped through his throat, nearly popping out from between his teeth along with the strangled gasp that managed to.

"I-Ichigo," he stuttered, inherently embarrassed. He hadn't been expecting his husband to return to the house for some time, considering he'd had a Squad Meeting to conduct. But, as it seemed, his business with this squad had finished early, as made blatantly clear by the fact that he was standing with Toshiro in their large, walk-in shower, very much naked. "I didn't think you'd be finished so soon," he continued, trying to cover up his foible.

He was far from succeeding, as made obvious by Ichigo's hands proceeding to hold onto his hips to prevent him from stepping away. "I told you I wouldn't be very long," he murmured against Toshiro's bare shoulder. "Didn't think you'd jump into the shower without me, though. I thought we had a Saturday morning tradition."

Toshiro rolled his eyes, huffing at the feel of a smirk pressed against the kiss planted on his shoulder. "It's your fault for breaking the tradition first, you idiot," he growled. "You usually never schedule meetings on Saturday mornings."

Ichigo chuckled against his shoulder, his hot breath washing against Toshiro's wet skin. "Fair enough," he said. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're a liar. A beautiful liar, but a liar nonetheless."

Toshiro scowled over his shoulder at his husband, pushing Ichigo's face off his shoulder so he could actually face his assailant. "What the hell are you blabbering about?" he growled, his hands on his hips as Ichigo straightened with a triumphant smirk on his lips.

"You told me you couldn't sing, Toshiro," Ichigo said, crossing his arms over his pectorals and looking at Toshiro just as accusingly. "In fact you told me like you sounded like a "bloody screech owl" if I remember correctly." Toshiro was blushing by that point, but was doing his damndest to hide it. Ichigo's widened smile told him that he was not succeeding. But the red-head obviously wasn't going to say anything more; expecting an explanation from his diminutive partner.

Toshiro looked away, still trying to mask his spreading blush. He could feel it begin to wash off his cheeks and pour down onto his collarbones. No one had heard him sing, not since his Grandmother, not even Momo. That was probably why he was so bashful about it; because he'd always assumed at the time that his grandmother would compliment him no matter how bad he sounded, and that she'd gushed over him because that's what she always did. Having someone else affirm her genuine like of his singing was what made it twice as worrying.

"I honestly didn't think I sounded that good," he said quickly, trying to dodge the impending compliment while he still could.

But Ichigo would have none of it, and he should have guessed as much. The taller man strode forward, scooping Toshiro's narrow shoulders in one arm and leaning down to kiss at his wrinkled forehead. "You gotta be kidding me," he said against the dampened white hair. "I thought an angel straight from the choirs of heaven had taken up residence in my house." He felt Ichigo smile against his head. "But maybe that's not such an unrealistic description, eh?"

Toshiro just rolled his eyes, sighing at the other. "You're incorrigible," he grumbled.

"Nonetheless," Ichigo conceded with a chuckle as he reached behind Toshiro to retrieve something, "I can't imagine where you learned to belt like that. You've got the pitch to beat the band, but I never would have thought such a big sound could come from little old you."

"Little old me?" Toshiro quoted, looking up with a rather unamused look. Ichigo caught onto his improper wording just in time, chuckling nervously this time as he looked down apologetically at Toshiro.

"You know that's not how I meant it," he said, trying to curry the man's favor before it froze the water they were both showering in. Toshiro would walk away unscathed, but Ichigo wouldn't be without some severe frostbite issues. "I just meant that you're so quiet and soft spoken most of the time. It was nice to be able to hear you just cut loose. Especially because that song is usually so quiet; it was really cool to hear you put your heart into it."

Toshiro had to admit, that did calm him down. "Fine," he conceded, before yelping as something cold and thick dribbled onto his head. Ichigo was smiling warmly at him, before he re-capped the shampoo bottle, returning it to its shelf. "What the hell are you doing?" the smaller man barked, rather unamused by the sudden intrusion of hygiene into their conversation. Which was rather ironic, when thought about, because they were in the shower, where hygienic things often took place.

"Doing what I always do on Saturday mornings," Ichigo said, digging his fingers into the dampened hair and promptly scrubbing the crap out of every inch of scalp he could get his fingers to, with all of the playful fervor that he usually showed.

"You mean scalp me?" Toshiro said, laughing as he tried to wriggle away from Ichigo's jostling hands. He squinted up at his orange haired husband, trying to avoid getting any soap in his eyes. "What's with you and washing my hair, anyway?"

Apparently done slathering every strand of his now very mussed hair into a fine lather, Ichigo gave his smaller spouse's hair one more good ruffle before smiling down at him. "Because," he said, pushing Toshiro back under the rain-like spray of their showerhead. "Your hair is the best damn thing since ever, and I love it."

Toshiro laughed, scooping some of the remaining lather off his head and ruffling it into Ichigo's fiery hair. "What about yours, then? Don't think I'll let you get away with not washing it, you dirty brute," he teased.

In spite of the teasing, Ichigo seemed to be beside himself with pleasure. "You want to wash my hair?" he asked, as if it were the most pivotal decision in the world.

"Sure," Toshiro said, tugging the taller man down to his level by his bangs as his free hand grabbed the shampoo bottle. "Why the hell not."

He then promptly returned the favor of Ichigo's almost maniacal scalp scrubbing. Ichigo started laughing halfway through, and somehow they both ended up throwing soap suds at each other and laughing until tears streamed down their faces like the cold water they were both now bathing in. When at last they'd both actually stopped fooling around for long enough to actually get clean, they turned off the frigid water and exited the shower after what was probably an exorbitant amount of time.

Snatching one of the large bath towels off the rung that they kept them on, Toshiro buffed himself dry, wrapping the plush piece of cloth around his shoulders and breathing in the smell of the soap they used to wash them. He felt Ichigo buff the edge of his own towel against his head gently, and looked up to his smiling husband to see him already halfway dressed into his shihakusho pants.

"Come on," he said through a laugh. "We have to get something done today." He walked out of the bathroom, leaving the top of his shihakusho behind. Toshiro rolled his eyes, knowing that the shirt was better to walk around the house in than only a towel. Tossing his towel on the countertop, he took the hint and slung the overtly large shirt over his shoulders, keeping an arm wrapped around his waist to keep the front folds together as his free hand picked his towel back up.

What he was greeted with out in the hallway nearly made him keel over with laughter. Ichigo, who hadn't exited long before him, was jiving down their hallway, his long legs swinging him side to side as he sang in his own, well toned voice:

"_I used to think maybe you loved me, Now baby I'm sure, And I'm walkin' on sunshine, Oh, I'm walking on sunshine, And don't it feel good!_"

His shoulders swung back and forth in time to his hip schwiggle, every well defined muscle on his back molding together as he went. Toshiro couldn't help his laughter, but was enjoying their silliness all the same. Moments like these were rare; when they just shared nonsensical, platonic moments together for the sake of being able to. He followed after his spouse, a spring in his step as he returned to their bedroom to get into some of his own clothing.

But when a firm hand got a fistful of his ass the second he walked in the door, every thought he had regarding "platonic moments" was forced aside.

* * *

-This is probably one of the most silly, random, crazy ass drabbles I think I've ever written. Indigo, you told me to go crazy on it, and I did. I hope this pleases you; I was smiling the entire time I was writing it. In fact, I'm still smiling now. This little drabble is actually pretty much a good summary of how my day ended: wonderfully. Today seriously was a shit show, but it ended out with this happy little drabble. Blah, blah, sappy stuff, blah. Now, off to do more drabbles before the end of this week smacks me in the face… or before my Japanese oral exam does. Either way. Hopefully I will post another set tomorrow. Again, still don't want any more prompts just yet; I need to finish the ones I have. I will let you know when I want more!

8-90s love,

crypto


	8. Set 8: Provided by xTKx

-Gah! I almost forgot to change the opening author's note! How silly of me. Anyway, I don't have much to say up here, other than I'm still not looking for more prompts yet, so please hold off on those. Thanks to xTKx for this set; I went to town with them, made obvious by the fact that this chapter is more than seven thousand words long. Written all in one day, no less! Anyway, more notes on the drabbles down on the bottom, and I'll see you tomorrow, biffles.

* * *

**1: Operation**

Ichigo waited with a twisting stomach outside Toshiro's designated room in the 4th. His hands shook as they were folded in front of him, his bandaged fingers trembling. Though whether it was from tire, pain, or nerves, he couldn't tell. He didn't care; none of the options mattered. All that mattered was that he sat there on a chair outside Toshiro's room as Captain Unohana worked to save his dwindling life. He kept seeing flashes of the torn and wounded arm, kept hearing that rattling breath in his ears as it slowed to an almost inaudible sigh.

He was making himself even more sick just thinking about it, but couldn't help it. Toshiro had been in much worse shape than he'd realized, which Unohana had responded to immediately as she always did. But the last thing he had expected as he sat out in the hallway waiting for Unohana to finish her numerous surgeries on his floundering spouse was for Byakuya Kuchiki to come and comfort him.

Byakuya, who wasn't looking at all well himself, had walked with pained slowness towards his fellow Captain. Ichigo had hardly noticed him until he was but a short distance away, but had greeted the other with a grim formality. Byakuya had taken the chair next to Ichigo with a stiff sigh, surprising the other.

"I owe you an apology," his deep voice rumbled, and Ichigo looked at him in surprise. What on earth Byakuya Kuchiki would feel the need to apologize to him for regardless of his pride was beyond him.

"What for?" he'd asked incredulously.

The head of the Kuchiki house had sighed stiffly, crossing his arms over his bandaged stomach. "Your husband was wounded on my account," he said darkly, successfully silencing Ichigo. "It is my responsibility to take blame for his current injuries."

Ichigo was still not quite following what the other meant by those words. "I don't understand," he said, sitting up a little bit. The bandaging tugged at his own wounds, but he resisted the urge to slouch back down. "Byakuya, what do you mean?"

"Captain Hitsugaya came to my aid when the enemies I faced proved overpowering," Byakuya said stiffly, apparently having an atrocious time admitting to such a humbling defeat. But Ichigo remained silent, knowing that the other's pride was hurt enough, and that compounding that would not improve matters between them. "I was wounded rather considerably by that time, as was Captain Hitsugaya, but in spite of having his own two enemies to face, he stepped in and took on mine as well." A distant look entered Byakuya's gray eyes. "He instructed me to get away from the scene; to find Renji and have him assist in getting me to Captain Unohana as soon as I could." A low flicker of shame passed through his eyes, and Ichigo could feel the regret rolling off the other Captain. "I should not have gone as he instructed." Byakuya's chin bowed slightly in shame. "Were it not for my fleeing, his condition would have likely not degraded to such a severe state."

"S'not your fault, Byakuya," Ichigo replied, and the dark haired Captain looked at him rather sharply. Apparently the quick response from the orange haired Captain had not been what Byakuya was anticipating. "Even if it was, I'd forgive you."

"Kurosaki…"

"I can understand why you feel responsible, Byakuya," Ichigo said, pressing his folded hands together. "I feel responsible too, for leaving him when I should have stuck by him. But that doesn't change that battle is battle, and war is war. No matter what happens, the outcome can't be pinned to one person's back, nor can the blame." Ichigo sighed, his head too bowing. "I might be worried about him, I might be scared shitless that he won't make it, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to let you take the blame for something that isn't your fault."

They sat in silence for a few moments after that, surprisingly peaceable. After that short time, Byakuya stood and made to leave. It didn't surprise Ichigo; Byakuya wasn't the type to argue or discuss after things like that were said. But before he was out of earshot, he did turn, and spoke to Ichigo one more time before disappearing back to his own room.

"Take heart, Ichigo Kurosaki, that if I survived this battle, and your husband is stronger than I, then he too shall survive."

**2: Unicorn**

"Toshiro," Ichigo breathed, holding onto the smaller Captain's shoulder as they walked quietly together through the far out forests beyond Rukongai. He pointed to a figure slowly drawing out of the forest towards them, his eyes wide with wonder. "What is that?"

"It's a Kirin, Ichigo," Toshiro breathed back, watching the creature stride forward with a graceful, lilting stride. The creature's glorious gold mane flicked in hushed movement against its green scaled neck, the proud horn mounted on its head shining polished by age in the light slanting through the trees.

When it had drawn within two feet of its two-man audience, it stopped, looking at them with an unveiled intelligence, before it bowed its head, walking on.

**3: Out of Bounds**

Ichigo had to admit that doing long distance reconnaissance work for the Soul Society was probably _too_ fun. It probably wasn't intended to be, knowing Yamamoto, but Ichigo just couldn't ever help himself. Especially with Toshiro in tow. The two of them just couldn't help having fun with each other; they were made to do so, and going on an unofficial "vacation" gave them a splendid excuse to.

Especially because, when out of the bounds of the Soul Society's limited access to the World of the Living, they could pretty much do whatever they damn well pleased.

So, on one particular mission that involved going to investigate some cohesion issues that Urahara had reported down in the Everglades, he and Toshiro had taken it upon themselves to take a night off. Which they promptly spent on a lively riverboat named Proud Mary, that helped them spend their night gyrating to the swinging jazz without worry or care.

**4: Poem**

Ichigo had found, one day whilst rifling through Toshiro's massive bookshelves, a small leather-bound journal. The brown cover was loved to a pale brown across the spine, and the pages were curled at the edges from being turned so much. Intrigued, he'd taken the journal form Toshiro's office back home one night with the intent to stay up and read it after Toshiro had gone to bed. The only issue was that his curiosity got to him far before he could even get to bed, and he ended up reading it almost the entire way home.

Because what he'd found was in fact a book of poetry, that Toshiro had apparently written throughout the years of his life. Ichigo had been more than pleased to find it, knowing that the other was far more artistic than everyone else thought. Some of the poems saddened him, some confused, and others still warmed his heart. By the time he had arrived home to where Toshiro was waiting, he'd already read through almost a third of the poems tucked away within the tiny book, scribbled between various doodling and miscellaneous notes.

Upon seeing that Ichigo had the journal, Toshiro seemed surprised. Ichigo supposed that the smaller Captain had probably forgotten about it, or hadn't written in it for some time. The question of "Where on earth did you find that?" assured Ichigo's impressions.

"In your office," he'd replied, closing the small journal to look at Toshiro with interest. "I didn't know you wrote such good poetry, Toshiro. I'm very jealous."

Toshiro shook his head, and the serious expression on his face made Ichigo pause for a moment as the other approached, hand reaching out in asking. "They're not poems," he said, his tone still too serious for Ichigo not to be worried. But he handed the book over anyway.

"Then what are they, Toshiro?" he said, not letting go of his half of the book. Toshiro had looked up at him, curious. Apparently he couldn't understand the rather worried tone in Ichigo's voice. It relaxed Ichigo a bit, to realize that Toshiro probably wasn't as serious as he had sounded.

"They're songs," his spouse explained, and with a start he released his end of the journal, leaving Toshiro to recollect it for himself. But the white haired man just flipped open to a page before looking back up to his very surprised husband. "Shall I sing you one?"

**5: Loading**

"Holy fuck, Kurosaki," Mutton Chops growled over his cigar, and Ichigo watched on in amusement as the burly man unloaded the crate that had arrived at the academy earlier that day. He'd been in contact with Urahara, who had been in contact with Yoruichi, who had been in contact with Soi Fon, who had been in contact with Yamamoto, and had arranged for an extended stay in the World of the Living for Toshiro. His presence in investigating this new matter was deemed pertinent enough to requisite his staying, much to Ichigo's thanks and glee. But, seeing as the other was indeed staying, it was rather necessary that he have a gigai so that his proper presence could be located and observed.

The fun part had been trying to pass off what looked to be a very dead body as something that was okay to be shipped transcontinental. Urahara had eventually finagled in that the body was a wax doll, being sent to an art exhibit at the school. The surprisingly farfetched excuse had worked, and sure enough, the body had arrived not a week later due to expedited shipping.

Which, Ichigo was sure, Urahara was going to bill him for later. But, for the time being, he was too amused watching Mutton Chops, whose name he had finally now remembered as being Logan, walked with the crate under one arm down towards the underground medical facility that Xavier had shown him earlier.

As if on cue, said bald man was waiting for them as they entered the underground facility, trailing after Logan as Ichigo was, seeming rather excited.

"I'm going to admit, that I am rather interested to see this equipment you've been talking about," Xavier said, and Ichigo almost laughed. "Hopefully we'll finally be able to meet this friend of yours who has been following you around."

Ichigo shrugged, wondering where exactly Toshiro had run off to. It was rather pertinent that he be there to inhabit the gigai they'd expended so much trouble in getting. But they were promptly interrupted by a rather surprised shout coming from the medical facility they were about to enter, and both he and Xavier burst into the room, wondering what on earth had transpired in the few paces Logan had gotten ahead of them.

As it turned out, the other man had taken the liberty of attempting to unload the "equipment" in the box. Which Ichigo had failed to tell them about, considering he wasn't entirely sure how to translate the entire fiasco-like story. Apparently he should have at least tried, because Mutton Chops looked pale as a ghost, looking in at what very much indeed look like dead body.

Xavier also seemed surprised, and they both looked at him with skeptical interest. "What kind of shit show you running, hear, bub?" Mutton Chops asked accusingly, pointing down at the uninhabited gigai rather accusingly.

"One that needs to improve their packaging methods," a genteel voice said, and Ichigo nearly burst out laughing as Logan all but jumped three feet in the air as the once lifeless body pulled itself out of the crate. Toshiro dusted the fake body off, rolling his shoulders rather stiffly. "You'd think they'd take better care of fragile goods. It feels like they sent this thing through a tumbler before it got here."

Ichigo was rather surprised himself, considering how fluent Toshiro seemed to be in English. But, when one lived for eons longer than normal, he figured he had more time to spend on learning such things.

Logan was still spluttering obscenities. "The hell is all this? One second I've got a dead body in a box, and the next thing you know it's like someone flicked the on switch."

"There is no on switch," Toshiro growled back just as grumpily. "The only thing that's changed is the fact that now there's something occupying the body. There can just as easily be nothing occupying the body, you damn bearded ruffian."

"Oi, what right do you have to come out calling names," Mutton Chops growled, both of them completely ignorant to how amused both Ichigo and Xavier were as spectators.

"Just because you couldn't see me doesn't mean that I haven't been here for the past _seven_ days, moron," Toshiro growled, the temperature in the lab dropping. "And I don't take kindly to all the insults you've been throwing at my compatriot, so I thought I'd return the favor, since he's obviously too polite to do so."

Logan snorted darkly. "So you're admitting to being impolite little brat?"

"I would be careful if I were you, Logan," Xavier warned, leaning his chin against his hand as he watched, rapt as if watching a baseball game. "You're getting into a verbal joust with a dragon. I can almost guarantee his forked tongue is going to cut you."

Logan merely grumbled, before Toshiro grumbled out one last rebuttal. "マトンチョップ."

**6: Why**

"You should always be careful when you find yourself blessed," Aizen's cool voice intoned, and Ichigo was left trembling with rage and fear as the twisted soul hauled Toshiro's limp body up by his bloodied haori. "Because it's likely that if you don't know why you've been blessed, the blessing won't last long."

**7: Never**

Ichigo held Toshiro by his wrists, his grip on the other man painfully tight. "Don't you _ever_ say that again," he growled out through clenched teeth and tear pricked eyes, his hands shaking from the force of his own grip. "_Please,_ don't ever say that again."

**8: Cellar Door**

Ichigo hadn't even _known_ their house had a cellar until he found the door to it one day whilst wandering about their yard. And he'd only found it because he'd caught Toshiro coming out of it, covered in grime and dust but looking generally pleased with himself.

"Where the hell were you just now?" he'd asked curiously, licking his thumb and rubbing a smear of sludge off Toshiro's cheek.

"Working on our training room," Toshiro had answered.

"Training room?"

"Yes. I had Urahara explain his methods for building his, and thought that since you and I would be in need of one, that I might as well build one for us."

**9: Hotel**

"Oh ho," Renji drawled, his tattooed brows wiggling. "Staying alone with Captain Hitsugaya at a hotel for a night? Aren't _you_ just Mr. Romantic."

"I would gladly accept that title, Renji, if it wasn't because we're _both_ attending a Shakespearian Literature Fair at said hotel."

**10: Explain**

When Ichigo awoke, it was to a vague memory of an excruciating amount of pain. His eyes had snapped open, and he'd sat bolt upright, amazed that his body didn't hurt in the slightest. He looked down at himself, observing the strangely familiar shihakusho with wondering eyes. How had he gotten there? Where was "there"? He glanced around what appeared to be the small, old fashioned Japanese house, his auburn eyes finally landing on the two other people that were in the house with him.

There was an old woman and a young man sitting in front of a small fire that was warming some very tantalizing smelling tea. The old woman was tiny, her gray hair tied up in a neat bun as her twinkling eyes smiled at him from across the room. Clad in a simple, twilight purple hakama, she immediately made him feel welcome, like he hadn't a care in the world, even though he was sure he probably did.

The young man, however, gave him a completely different impression. He was clad in a black shihakusho similar to the one he himself was wearing, but had the accent of a proud, pristine haori hanging over his narrow shoulders. A sword lay on the floor by his side, but he seemed to have no intention of touching it, which comforted him slightly. The young man's snowy hair sat in an unruly fashion atop his head, his eyes hidden by closed lids and pristine white lashes. There was a quiet authority that hung about him like a fine mist, but in spite of that, and his obviously potent spiritual presence, Ichigo had no fear of him. He seemed familiar somehow, like an old friend he'd forgotten.

When the young man's eyes opened and looked over at him, he couldn't help that compounding feeling. The teal eyes looked out at him softly, welcomingly. He felt like those eyes were a warm ocean, washing around him in gentle waves. He _knew_ those eyes.

But he could not remember from where.

"It's good to see you've woken up," the young man said, his voice seemingly strangely quiet to his ears. It was like he was used to the younger man speaking in a different way, as if the voice he was speaking in, though also familiar, wasn't his usual tone. "How much are you able to remember?"

Ichigo looked at him curiously, wondering what he meant by that. But the more he began to try and think, the more he realized that he couldn't remember much at all. He glanced around the house, finding his own sword leaning against the wall a short distance away. He sighed with relief, at least sill able to remember Zangetsu's voice as it spoke calmingly in the back of his mind. "I know my name, and the name of my sword." He turned back the white haired young man, a thought striking him as he thought. "And I know you're a Captain. Of the… 13 Court Guard Squads. Which means…" he paused, the cogs in his mind suddenly turning with information. "We must be in the Soul Society." He looked the young man for affirmation, but every emotion the young man had was hidden behind a glassy veil that had settled over his eyes.

He knew the young man was listening, but was not going to let him in that easily.

"Does this mean that I died?" he asked quietly, not sure he wanted to remember exactly how he died, but very much wanting to know if his conclusions up until that point were at least correct.

They were.

"Yes, unfortunately," the young Captain stated, his tone almost chillingly even. "I'm not going to try to explain everything to you now; it would only confuse you. That, and I'm sure that you're going to start remembering everything over the next couple of days, so there's no need to compound your memory." As Ichigo looked into those teal eyes he realized something. That even though they were masterfully guarded, there was still a throbbing, undeniable hurt hidden in them. It made Ichigo sad, and almost angry to know that it was probably his own fault. This man was probably someone who knew him, and not being remembered would be a very crushing blow indeed.

"I'll try to remember," he pleaded, trying to get that hurt in the younger man's eyes to go away. It didn't, and he was left hurting himself under his own inability to make that pain go away.

The young man shook his snowy head, standing slowly and gathering up his sword. He slung it over his shoulder, the green sash tucked under one arm. "Don't strain yourself," he assured, but Ichigo just couldn't let that pain linger there, couldn't let it continue to get to him as the feeling sank like frost into his feet. "You're welcome to say here until you're feeling better, or until you remember a little more. Granny will take care of you."

When the young man made to leave, something that very much felt like his heart jumped up into Ichigo's throat. "Wait," he said, scrambling up unsteadily. His body felt like lead, and his muscles strangely unsure of what they were doing. "Where are you going?"

"I'm headed back to the Seireitei," he said over his narrow shoulder, only turning when Ichigo tried to take a wobbly step after him. He only turned halfway, a smile just as tragic as his eyes pulling as his pale lips. "Everyone else will be worried. I have to let them know that you'll be alright. Don't worry; someone will always be in contact with you so that when you feel you've recovered enough you can come back into the city."

"Someone?" Ichigo repeated numbly, before tumbling forward as the young Captain turned to leave yet again. He felt just about to fall when a cold, firm hand caught his arm, steadying him as he recollected himself on his own feet. He looked up at those blue eyes, hating that if anything, he could see the bleeding hurt in them intensify. "I don't want _someone_," he said sternly, his hand grasping onto the young man's arm tightening its grip. "I want _you_ to be here."

That wavering smile was back, and Ichigo's heart was breaking. He was drowning, so lost in this horrible empty void of not knowing that he felt like he was going to wash away at any moment. There was only that comforting hand holding him up that kept him from going under. "That may be," the smaller man said, apparently hoping that broken smile would comfort him. "But until you know any sort of reason as to why you want me here, there is little point in it being me. It could be one of many different people that you would want here, that would want to be here for you."

"_Point?_" he whispered, feeling the word dry his mouth even by saying it. The white haired Captain made to move away, his little hand pulling away from Ichigo's shock-slackened grip. Panic flooded through him as the smaller man took his first step away, and he reached out with both arms to catch him before he slipped out of his grasp.

"_Reason?_" he whispered again, feeling with dread how the other man was trembling beneath his fingers. He held the Captain by his biceps at arm's length, but he could tell that the younger man didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be watching Ichigo flounder. But there was something in him that Ichigo saw that refused to leave him, so long as he was needed. As long as he had a point in staying, a reason to, he would.

Realizing that, Ichigo began speaking again. "There is a point." He spoke hurriedly, feeling his panicked tears prick at his eyes at the continued thought of not having given the other man a reason to stay around. "There is a reason, there is! I know there is, I know there is!" His grip was so tight on the other's black sleeves that he was sure he was going to tear them, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "God damn it, Toshiro, there is a reason!" His arms pulled the other forward, burying his face in the crook of Toshiro's neck, his tears wetting the previously pristine haori.

For what felt to be hours he sat there, babbling through sobs against Toshiro's shoulder. His own hands were shaking as he held onto the smaller man in a white-knuckled grip, his body a contradicting mix of relieved and sick. He was relieved because he'd remembered; there _was_ a reason why he wanted Toshiro to stay, there _was_ a reason he'd seemed so familiar, there _was_ a reason why he'd not wanted to hurt the other so.

But he was sick, oh so sick with himself, for having ever forgotten in the first place. He felt wretched and ugly as every inch of his insides twisted at having _forgotten_. How cruel he'd been, how horrid, at having forgotten. And even if it had been due to circumstances beyond his control, the effect was the same. The exact disgusting same as having gutted the one person he loved with a poisoned knife.

But that name, that beautiful name. It falling from his lips countless times was the only medicine he was willing to give himself, as he apologized and wept for the wrong he had committed. The wrong that didn't deserve the soothing provided by the sweet nothings that Toshiro was whispering in his hear, the wrong that didn't earn the right to have those angelic hands rub gentleness and security into his shoulders.

But that was something he'd always known about Toshiro; that his love was beyond explanation, and his grace absolute.

**11: Enclose**

Trying to contain Toshiro when he was angry was a very bad idea. Ichigo knew this, from years of having observed people trying to do it and failing miserably. But he found that no matter how much he tried to dissuade his captors from shutting his angry spouse in, they refused to heed his warnings.

Thus, and this came as no surprise to him, within the span of minutes the locked room they'd attempted to keep him in had been razed, Hyorinmaru's furious roars echoing throughout the building as Toshiro made to retrieve Ichigo, before getting the both of them out of there.

**12: Orange**

"These things are probably the best thing ever," Ichigo said, peeling another segment of sweet flesh off the dwindling remains of the Clementine orange in his hands. He reached his hand over Toshiro's face, offering the piece of fruit to the other man's mouth. He felt Toshiro take it gingerly with his teeth, waiting until Ichigo let go to bite into it. They were laying on their bed, Toshiro's head propped on Ichigo's stomach as he read over some kind of transcript he'd gotten that day. Ichigo was too preoccupied with the crate of little oranges that had been left as a gift at their door that morning, finding he was rather fond of them. "Might have to invest in getting more."

"Have you eaten them all already?" Toshiro asked through a mouthful of juicy orange, not looking away from his paperwork as he flipped the page. Ichigo shifted underneath him, and Toshiro was on the verge of complaining about how his human pillow wasn't supposed to be moving, but was silenced by a pair of lips resting against his own.

"No, because," Ichigo mumbled almost bashfully into the light kiss, "I like the way they taste on you."

**13: Damnation**

"You're going to hell, you fucking queer," the man spat at Toshiro. Ichigo had only just come within earshot, having returned with their lemonades after having gone to one of the many stands lining the boardwalk. He was stunned white by the man's hateful words, and came close to rushing forward in rage, were it not for Toshiro's chilling reply.

"Better to live damned by your God and have known love first, than to have suffered your hateful life and do so forever."

**14: Bomb**

Toshiro could never have fathomed anything like it. He could never have imagined the heat. The raw, crushing, incinerating heat that ripped across the air as the bomb's fire razed the city. He could never have imagined the destruction. He watched with wide eyes as buildings disintegrated, the ground fell into a cavernous pit, and everything rang to a choking silence against the crushing sound of particles screeching as they tore apart. Shadows clung to every corner of what was left as the clouds fled in pressure-wrought rings of white, the only pure remains of a sky raped by war. And as the thundercloud of white heat rose into the sky, Toshiro realized something as the land rose away into nothing.

No heart, of any man or any woman, could ever fathom the true destruction of such a tool.

It did not surprise him that when Ichigo found him amongst the wreckage, that he was crying from shock. Soundless tears washed the soot away from his face in clear lines, but no tears could wash away the sound of a thousand souls screaming to death in his ears. No quiet embrace or whispered assurances could squelch the flames of Hell itself that burned over the purged city with a wicked glee. There was no clearing of the horrid smoke that rose slowly away into the atmosphere, carrying the only remains of the people who had lived there into the great unknown fold of nothing the sky soundlessly offered.

There was no apology for this, there was no recompense. There was no excuse for doing such evil onto other people, and it broke Toshiro's heart into thousands of fragmented pieces to know that it was within the capability of men to use such Armageddon worthy tools so idly. Because from under the shadow of this weapon, there was no saving. There was no promise of rebirth, no settling of the soul into a home in Rukongai, no knowing of better things, no promise of second chances.

There was only the whispering hell of the aftermath left behind, leaving behind those who could survive it to weep in its depravity.

**15: Pukka**

Ichigo had never been the type to be a good babysitter. He wasn't patient, wasn't particularly gentle, and wasn't the most creative man when it came to keeping small children occupied. So when Renji had implored him to watch their five year old son, for the sake of wanting to just have a night for him and Rukia to have to themselves, he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do. He agreed, wanting to give the poor man a break from the trials of parenthood, but past that he had no idea what he intended to do.

Especially not with his own month old child to worry about. He hadn't thought that part through too clearly when he'd agreed, but now as he sat cradling the little bundle that was his daughter protectively to his chest, he began to realize that it was probably a bad idea. The five year old son that Renji and Rukia had raised was a menace; probably much like Renji was as a child. And as much as Ichigo had tried to explain to the child every reason under the bloody sun why he couldn't touch her, the little black haired boy refused to hear any of it.

But Toshiro, bless his knowing heart, had managed to distract the child with a story from one of the books Rukia had sent over with him. Ichigo had been let off the hook for a moment, the boy sitting next to him on the couch paying rapt attention as Toshiro read to him from his favorite armchair across the living room. This gave Ichigo the opportunity to finally do what he had intended to do when he'd scooped his barely armful of daughter out of her bed a short time ago, and just hold her like every awestruck father did.

Propping an elbow up on his knee, he stroked a strand of her down soft orange hair away from her brow. She was well asleep, curled up against his chest with a tiny thumb tucked into her mouth. Every time he looked at her he felt like part of him broke and healed at the same time. He'd never known how much love he could hold in him until this little child had come into his life, and every time he looked at her little face he felt like his heart was breaking from the overwhelming force of his love for her. But that same little face would heal him over ten million times stronger, leaving him in this horrible, yet euphoric state of completely melted.

When he was drawn away from the hypnotic sound of his baby's breathing, it was because a knock had come on his front door. The morning was yet early, the night from hell spent with the five year old hellion apparently over as Toshiro let Renji and Rukia in through their front door. Surprisingly, their little boy didn't move from his position at Ichigo's side, instead pointing at the bundle in Ichigo's arms accusingly.

"Uncle Ichi was boring," he complained loudly to his parents. "All he did was stare at that skunk child the whole time!"

Ichigo's fist seriously came within seconds of slugging the kid full force across the back of his head. And were it not for Toshiro's voice of reason barking at him not to do anything stupid, he probably would have gone through with it. Instead, he let his shaking fist spread out into an open hand that settled down on the five year old's head, a very displeased smile on his face. "Aren't you _cute_," he growled out, as he promptly mussed every inch of the child's head he could get his hand on.

The short black hair went sticking out in every direction, much to the bashful child's dismay. He jumped off the couch to go hide behind his laughing father's knee, squealing out from behind his shield, "I will have my revenge."

"Bring it on, pipsqueak," Ichigo growled, glowering at the small child as Rukia thanked Toshiro for their favor. With that the little family left, leaving Ichigo to stew and pout on his own peaceably quiet couch once more. Toshiro sat down gracefully next to him, leaning into Ichigo's shoulder as he stroked the notably white strip of hair that sat on their daughter's little forehead. It was just a little tab of silver hair amongst the rest of the flaming ginger, and Ichigo didn't think he could disagree any more with Renji's child. It didn't make her look like a skunk at all; it made her look like a proper mix between her two parents, with a unique little flair.

He felt Toshiro's pale lips grace the side of his cheek. "Don't let a five year old get to you," he advised, and Ichigo leaned his head against his spouse's as he sighed. Toshiro was right, but he just had so much pride in him over this little baby that even the slightest insult would shove him the wrong way.

He knew already, only a month into parenting, that he would make a _horribly_ overprotective father.

"Okay," he said, unsurprised that their little outburst had caused their daughter to waken. But she did so slowly, as if she really hadn't been disturbed by anything and was just opening her eyes to check on everyone. Her striking, Caribbean teal eyes looked up at him with a recognizable gleam, and she took her thumb out of her mouth to reach up for him with a tiny hand. Ichigo smiled as he bowed his head, nuzzling her hand with his nose. Her little fingers curled gently against his nose before she tucked her hand back to her. Apparently assured that her father was okay, she set herself back to snoozing against his arm.

Ichigo literally had to turn and bury his face against Toshiro's shoulder in order to keep himself from _squealing_ at how cute she was. Toshiro laughed gently, patting Ichigo's head sympathetically. "I think you're smitten, Ichigo," he said teasingly, and Ichigo smiled against his husband's pale skin, kissing it slowly.

"I was before," he said through several more open mouthed kisses. "But now I've got _two_ of you. I'm so spoiled I think it's a sin."

Toshiro tilted his neck, giving Ichigo a wider expanse of moon-kissed skin to garnish with love. "You are spoiled," Toshiro replied in a quiet sigh as Ichigo made to take advantage of that open skin. But Toshiro then turned his head, so that the two of them were quite suddenly face to face. Ichigo stopped immediately, the proximity of their lips tempting, but he waited to hear what Toshiro had to say. "But so are we for having you," his white haired spouse whispered, leaning forward kissing his waiting husband with so much tenderness that it made the wait well worth.

Ichigo kissed him back, before breaking away to look down at their tiny daughter. Toshiro had that same heart-breaking yet healing quality to him as well. "What was it that Unohana said to us, again? When she was born?" he asked, brushing a gentle knuckle against the little strip of white hair atop his daughter's brow.

"Made from true love and class," Toshiro whispered against his ear as he leaned his snowy head against Ichigo's shoulder. "A very pukka statement, I believe, well befitting her."

He leaned his head against Toshiro's. "Us too."

* * *

-Oh my goodness. I wasn't sure that I was going to be able to get all of these done in one day! I honestly thought they were just going to keep going and going and going and going. Mostly because halfway through I realized that I'd skipped five of them right out of the middle, and had no idea what to do for them. But regardless, I liked the way these turned out. Especially the last one, because the thought of Ichigo being a daddy just makes me squeal. Especially because of the thought process he would probably have as a new dad. That, and I wanted to have him be the overprotective daddy like he totally would be. Drabble 1 is a continuation of "Curtain Fall", and drabble 5 is a continuation of "X-Men", as per some of your requests. And what the katakana at the end translates to is "Maton-choppu", or the Japanese pronunciation of Mutton Chops. 7 I'm leaving rather vague, seeing what some of you may come up with as to what exactly Toshiro said to make Ichigo react like that. Drabble 10 I wrote post Ichigo's human death, if that wasn't clear. Drabble 12 come from my own love of Clementine oranges. Drabble 14… oh rabble 14. This comes from my own personal view, but I won't go into it any further than that lest I offend any of you even further. Drabble 15 was just fun, though I still don't have a name for their darling little daughter. I am going to need one, considering she is to reappear in later drabbles. Feel free to give me ideas for her name. But, again, NO PROMPTS PLEASE! I'm still behind! Other than that, I hope you guys enjoyed, and I'll see you all tomorrow. Probably.

8-90s love,

crypto


	9. Set 9: Provided by Magickless Sorceress

-Almost forgot to change this again. I managed to remember just because I noticed it was still the same opening from two drabble sets ago. I'm still not interested in taking any more drabble sets just yet; still have two more sets to catch up on, and I have tons of Christmas writing gifts I'm going to try to do next week, so if you're going to donate prompts, please do so past Sunday.

* * *

**1: Tear**

"Ichigo, Ichigo, it's alright," Toshiro affirmed, his voice gentle as the other wept into his shoulder. He could feel Ichigo's emotions thrumming in his spiritual pressure, and could feel the man's guilt rolling off him in waves. "It's okay," he kept assuring as the other continued to weep against him, and he drew comforting circles over the shaking shoulders.

"No 's not," Ichigo sobbed out, his grip shaking so badly Toshiro thought he was going to let go from lack of control. "No it's not," he said a bit more strongly, sniffling and straightening up a bit. There was still anguish in his eyes, as tears still brimmed at his ginger lashes. Toshiro reached up, brushing the tears away from that familiar face with his knuckles. Ichigo's hand caught his just as he was about to draw away, and Toshiro could see the words trembling on his lips. "It'll never be okay that I forgot _you_," he mumbled out, and Toshiro watched his chest catch in a poorly hidden sob.

Toshiro shushed him, wiping the tears away from the crooks of the man's eyes, both of his small hands gracing the carved chin. "But you remembered, Ichigo," Toshiro said, his tone soft. "So there's nothing to be guilty over. Please, just don't cry anymore."

Ichigo shook his head, sinking back down to rest his head against Toshiro's shoulders as his large arms wrapped around the smaller man's torso. "But I _hurt_ you, Toshiro," he said miserably. "I can see it in your eyes." His words died off there, and he buried his face further into the crook of that pale neck. "I would _never_ hurt you, Toshiro," he whispered out, obviously trying to assure the other more than himself.

Toshiro sighed, stroking at the back of Ichigo's neck calmingly. He had been hurt. He had been hurt when he'd heard of Kurosaki's death, feeling pain for the person he loved having to die in such a gruesome way. He had anticipated the other to have lost his memories, but that did not change the lack of recognition the other's eyes had held when they first opened. That had stung, like a burning sword was sliding slowly into his gut. But Ichigo had remembered; and he'd felt despair at not remembering. That was more than enough recompense for the struggle the smaller Captain had gone through, sitting there as calmly as he'd been able to manage whilst the man he loved sat staring at him unknowingly.

"I know, Ichigo," he murmured back, and Ichigo let out a choked sigh of relief. "I know you would never hurt me."

But the expression that Ichigo greeted him with when the ginger headed man raised his head was not the one Toshiro was expecting. It was still miserable, but searching in a way that made his gut twist. Had Ichigo forgotten something else? A thousand options raced through his head, but all of them were proven incorrect at Ichigo's next question. "Why won't you cry, Toshiro?" he asked softly, almost brokenly. "Why won't you be angry with me? Why won't you blame me?"

"Why are you letting those tears just sit there in your eyes?"

Toshiro chuckled quietly. "Because I don't want to hurt you, Ichigo," he said, smiling again weakly. "I would _never_ hurt you, Ichigo."

**2: Note**

It should be noted that Toshiro wasn't fond of being quoted at. Especially when it was from Scarface, and by Ichigo, being called in what was probably supposed to be a rather droll fashion, "his little friend".

**3: Flat**

Ichigo felt his own heart stop when he heard the flat beep of the heart monitor start ringing through the room as he left. He whirled, rushing back towards his husband, feeling panic ring through him. But before he could even really reach the stricken spouse's bed, Unohana was there, and the world seemed to swing back into reality as the monitor began to spike normally again.

**4: Heater**

Ichigo was like his own personal heater. Toshiro had admittedly never been fond of heat, but he found that when it came to Ichigo, the man's warmth was just something enclosing and welcoming. It wasn't the kind of heat that overworked him, or irritated him. It was warmth that reached even the coolest corners of his body where usually the cold always lay, shooing it away in favor of letting in a pleasing, rolling heat.

And Toshiro only continued to allow himself to enjoy the warmth because he knew that Ichigo enjoyed giving it to him as much as Toshiro loved taking it in.

**5: Agenda**

"I told you, Kurosaki, I don't have time to "hang out" today," the small Captain griped over his shoulder, his armful of paperwork slowing down his usually clipped stride. "I don't have time; my schedule is packed as it is. I don't need you butting your nose into it to make it any worse than it already is."

Unfortunately for Toshiro, Ichigo wasn't around just for a complimentary visit. He had started making a habit of stopping by the 10th Division office whenever he was in the Soul Society, but it was usually only for his personal gain, and for the sake of having a growing interest in the young Captain. Thus, with his own personal interest in mind, he promptly declined the request by the younger Captain for him to bugger off.

"Just because you have an agenda to uphold to doesn't mean that I don't," Ichigo said, persisting in walking next to the Captain as they went. Obviously irked, but too hurried to bother indicating so, Toshiro just huffed over his stack of papers.

"Then what is on your agenda, seeing as you appear to have one?"

Ichigo just smiled, not bothering to look down at the shorter man. "Just being with you," he said, and he felt Toshiro look up at him, but still resisted looking down. "That's all."

**6: Wisp**

There was a wisp of fog settled over the Seireitei the day he returned to his empty house for the first time. It felt like it was a lingering impression of Toshiro, wishing him goodbye as he entered those quiet doors. He wished strongly that he could have traded that fog for his spouse, but instead sat on their back porch for a long time, watching their Koi pond and the stone Toshiro had sat on whilst meditating so many mornings before. But the fog was not the same as the heavenly white wisps that had danced about the yard whenever he meditated, leaving instead lurking gray haze.

"God, babe," Ichigo had said to no one in particular, his voice distant, "I miss you so much."

**7: Wheel**

Ichigo sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Mutton Chops stared at him accusingly from a cross the underground garage. He'd made the mistake of getting Toshiro interested in vehicles, and had made the even more grievous mistake of leaving him alone with one for several hours. He'd probably figured that Toshiro would just fiddle around with it, looking at all its different parts to try and figure out how it worked. In truth, Toshiro had done just that.

The only issue was that he'd taken the entire car apart first, and _then_ examined all the parts to see how they worked.

Needless to say, Logan had not been pleased to return to the garage to quite literally find is vintage Mustang in pieces strewn across the shop floor. Ichigo and Xavier who had come down to investigate the hollering that had been coming from the garage had been unsurprised to find why the older man was visibly upset.

"I did warn you," Ichigo said, watching as Toshiro continued to ignore the burly man in favor of reassembling some complex part. He believed it to be what remained of the carburetor, but he wasn't sure. All he did know was that Toshiro was covered in grease, and seeming to enjoy every minute of it. "Get him interested in anything and he _will_ figure out how it works."

"Did he have to fucking take my car apart?" Logan roared, still fuming.

"You should be thankful for him, Logan," Xavier said, in that bemused and interested tone he often seemed to use whenever Toshiro was involved. It was like he was too busy watching the younger man's thoughts to actually pay attention to the conversation. Ichigo could blame him; following Toshiro's genius thought process was probably like trying to jump on board an en-route maglev train. "He's discovered some sort of problem."

The scruffy man turned back to the savant, obviously offended at the thought of the other thinking he couldn't take care of his own car. "What the hell is wrong with it?" he barked. "Other than the fact that it's _dismantled_?"

Toshiro pointed to the stack of tires he'd made in one corner of the cluttered shop. "See the tire on the top?" he said, apparently totally calm about the matter in spite of how riled up Logan was. "It has an unusual amount of wear on it compared to the other tires. I would bet that the vehicle wandered something awful when driving." Mutton Chops seemed startled, but interested now that Toshiro seemed to be speaking a language he understood. "Your strut was cracked, and the shock absorber was practically disintegrating. I would recommend contacting someone you can order parts from, because even after I reassemble it, it won't be safe to drive until those parts are replaced."

Toshiro then held up the strut in question, and Logan took it from his little hands curiously, examining the damaged piece with a surprised look on his face. "Well," he said, the smile in his voice just barely discernable over the gruff. "I'll be damned."

**8: Undo**

"HOLY FLYING MOTHER OF -"

"Kurosaki, would you please explain what happened?"

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"

"For the love of god, what are you swearing at?"

". THISISREALLYBAD."

"What?"

"I just deleted my entire recitation!"

"Then press the damn "undo" button and quit panicking! You're making a bloody scene!"

**9: Rewrite**

Ichigo ended up rewriting that recitation anyway, after he'd realized that he'd done it wrong from the bloody start. But, in all actuality, he hadn't been the one to write it. Seeing as he'd been in an almost fit over not having done the killer paper correctly, he'd promptly fallen into a sulking stupor, refusing to look at his computer or go anywhere near it. Which, probably wasn't the wisest choice he could have made, considering the paper was due in two days. However, being the gentle hearted man that he was, Toshiro had agreed to write it for Ichigo, having known the other's writing style already pretty well enough to mimic it.

He got an A on the paper, but best of all was the three hours he got to spend dictating to Toshiro about what thoughts he wanted to include. The Captain had listened and written diligently, his patience far beyond what Ichigo would have expected. But, he then figured that there were probably times in Toshiro's life when he had done similar things. As a lower seated officer, he'd probably had to take notes and written reports very similar.

But the only reason that the rewrite had taken three hours was because about every twenty minutes, they would end up off topic, and would chat idly with each other over whatever came to their minds. That was what made Ichigo cherish those three hours, because they were three hours where the thin ice he'd been treading over solidified, and let him stand firmly next to the icy dragon he'd been trying to reach for so long.

**10: Will**

"For the last time, Ichigo," Toshiro assured, gently handing their bundle of daughter over to the larger Soul Reaper's hesitant hands, "you won't break her." He then handed the bottle over to the other, the milk formula just tingeing on warm.

Ichigo looked down at Mikan's smiling face, still very much petrified that he was going to break the little thing. He had the capability and strength of cutting grown men with a single strike, and yet Toshiro still had faith in him not to hurt this small child? It was almost overwhelming, but the feel of her tiny little body in his arms made him realize how real it was. How important it was that he did this for her, and learned to restrain himself, lest he hurt her later on.

Sighing, he looked up to Toshiro, who looked calmly, encouragingly back at him. "Okay," he said quietly, praying that is will would be able to withstand his fear.

* * *

-This set was surprisingly hard for how short and simple it was. Perhaps it was just because I had kind of an off day. I had a close friend get into what could have been a fatal car accident and walk away having just dodged a minor concussion, and all of my classes for the semester are officially over. I still have my final exams; my first set of university level exams, which I'm still kind of fretting over, but trying not to. That, and I didn't eat much, and am probably only even cognizant because of all the eggnog I've consumed. I apologize for the prominent lack of quality and length in these drabbles, and will try to do better tomorrow after a proper night's sleep. Oh! I almost forgot, Ichigo and Toshiro's daughter's name translates to "mandarin orange", which is as close as I can get to Clementine. In the mean time, I'm going to polish off my nog and try to ignore my headache. Hope your guys' Friday nights are fun!

8-90s love,

crypto


	10. Set 10: Provided by Corisanna

-Feeling much better today, especially now that it's the weekend, I've gotten a decent amount of sleep, have eaten more than a bird's daily amount of food, and have headache medicine. Woot for being able to medicate yourself. Anywhositybub, I'm hoping that these drabbles turn out better than the last set I posted. I re-read them this morning, and they really weren't horrible. As a matter of fact they weren't half as awful as I'd made them out to be (which is good, considering I thought them damn awful when I posted them). But, regardless, I do hope that his set will turn out better. Meaning, in my books, wordier and better explained. Only one more set, you guys, and I'll be taking prompts again! But you know what's scary? I've already reached my halfway marker for 200 Days of Our Lives: I HAVE OVER 100 DRABBLES WRITTEN. Scary, ne? I can hardly believe it, considering how fast they've gone!

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**1: Curve**

"God damn it," Ichigo growled against the screen of his laptop, settling back in his chair with a disconcerted huff. He looked up to see Toshiro's only mildly amused eyes looking at him over the cover of the _Discover_ magazine he was reading. The quirked brows quite openly said "What now?" without even needing his lips to move.

"I'm trying to get this damn roller coaster simulation right," he explained, earning an even more curious glance from his companion. "I have to make a roller coaster over two miles long with all this stuff in it, but that won't kill the passengers with the g-forces. I finally came within .3 Gs of not killing my passengers, but on that last turn it went over the normal survivable level."

He could just barely see Toshiro's smile accentuating the curve of his cheeks over the top bridge of the magazine. The magazine folded down, revealing that mischievous little smile to his audience. "Mind if I give it a try, then?"

**2: Aquarium**

Ichigo had been rather surprised at how long their stay at Xavier's Academy was lasting. They'd been there for a good two weeks, and as much as he would have liked to claim that he wanted to go come, he was unable to really do so. It wasn't that he was having an uproarious time at the school. Don't get him wrong; it was very enjoyable, but not enjoyable to make him stay only on that account. Rather, what kept him lingering there was the growing apparent conflict between the normal "non-mutant" population of the United States and the unnatural minority "mutant" population. It made Ichigo sad to see that kind of discrimination resurrected in the United States; it reminded him all too much of the Anti-Korean conflict that still lingered rather feverishly in Japan. He wanted to stay and help, or to offer as much information and assistance as he could.

So far, he'd only managed to make a small amount of progress in explaining to Xavier exactly what was going on in Japan. It was hard to explain in English, translating things he weren't even sure had an English correlation. But Toshiro had been there to push him along, providing words for his tongue when he didn't know what to say next. The Captain himself had expressed being rather opposed to returning to the Soul Society; though Ichigo could see in his eyes that it was for a different reason than pitying the United States' current segregation issue. There was something else bothering the young man that lay beyond what Ichigo could see, something that apparently Toshiro had made clear enough to Head Captain Yamamoto to allow him to stay for however long he felt he needed to.

When he'd been mulling over such thoughts one day in the small dorm room that he and Toshiro had been allotted, watching over the smaller man's empty gigai as he tried feverishly to work up on his English vocabulary (he swore to god that the damn language had more words than anyone could ever need), he'd gotten a surprise visit from Scott. The bespectacled man had knocked first, ever polite, before entering after Ichigo had indicated he could.

"Hey," the other man had greeted, adjusting his very specialized eye gear to sit on his face more comfortably. "We're taking the students to the New England Aquarium today, you want to come?" The man's hidden eyes glanced over to where Toshiro's body lay "sleeping", apparently having noticed the lack of breathing in the fake body. "Where'd Toshiro run off to now? Xavier was really hoping you guys would want to come." His gaze then returned to Ichigo. "All the kids just love you guys; they'd be really happy to spend an afternoon with you."

Ichigo stood up, shrugging as he lingered over that one word. Aquarium, he pondered it over for a moment, knowing he'd heard it before. He then remembered, and smiled at Scott rather warmly. "I'd love to come," he said, setting down the "Idiot's Guide to English" he'd been trying to muddle through. He then looked back at Toshiro's gigai, unable to remember where the other man had said he was going off to. In fact, he wasn't sure if the other man had specified at all. He had been acting uncharacteristically strange lately, and it was slowly beginning to worry Ichigo. "I'm not sure where Toshiro went," he admitted, sensing some rather displeased emotion roll off Scott. He knew the story of how there existed two facets to the Mutant minority; the violet sect and the nonviolent sect, and how the two clashed heads quite often. He could understand Scott's suspicions, but knew that Toshiro would never go snooping around there. He was serious about his business, yes, but never stupid enough to go trotting into a bees nest in the hopes of not getting stung. "But I'm sure I could find him. I'm sure he would like to go too."

"Indeed I would," Toshiro said himself, sitting up stiffly. Ichigo was startled; not having noticed that the man had even slipped in. He sighed a bit, seeing that Toshiro's usually preoccupied expression was absent; meaning that he'd probably just been exploring the grounds to sate his own interest. "I've never been to an aquarium before," he said, arching his back in an attempt to get it to pop back into a comfortable position. It did; Ichigo could hear it all the way across the room.

"Great," Scott said, sounding much more pleased that Toshiro had reappeared so quickly. He of all of them had caught on most quickly and comfortably the whole gigai system. And even though Toshiro had been very careful to only leave his gigai in the room they were staying in, he'd been told by Logan that it was still disturbing to walk in and just find his little body lying there not breathing. Toshiro would always laugh, but could do little more about it than that, save for stay in his gigai more often, which he had been making a very good attempt to do so. "Come on, then. The bus is waiting out front. Everyone should just be loading up, so if we hurry we can make it down in time."

The ride from the school into Boston was a bit longer than Ichigo anticipated, but in spite of that it went rather quickly thanks to the help of the children also boarded onto the bus. Apparently it was a trip for the older kids; typically of the high school age. Thankfully none of them had been overly intrusive, but had kept lots of pleasant and intriguing conversation going as the bus trundled along. Logan and Xavier, along with some other members of the staff had tagged along, wanting to keep a fair amount of chaperones around.

When they arrived, Ichigo knew that Toshiro didn't regret coming along. The man's inquisitive mind was absolutely enthralled by all of the exhibits, and the information crowding just about every surface available. He watched on in amusement as Toshiro read every single word he could get his eyes on, only after having gleaned enough information then actually looking at the animals displayed. But Ichigo could tell that something big was impacting Toshiro about this place, and when they arrived at the massive cylindrical tower of water that spanned three stories, he began to realize why. Toshiro may have had a connection with ice, but his zanpakuto also took up the other half of that category; water. Thus, naturally, the smaller man had a deep connection to water himself, and as he gazed out in unveiled wonder at the animals that thrived in his element, Ichigo knew what had Toshiro so appalled. He was seeing, for the first time probably, a menagerie of creatures that shared in his element that he'd never known about before.

But even Ichigo was forced to pause, staring in amazement at what transpired as their group of forty some people drew to a halt. They'd been wandering up the spiral of floor that wound around the column of enclosed water, but all of them had stopped as Toshiro had, having put a hand to the thick glass. As if by magic, one of the large, ten foot long sand tiger sharks came swimming over, it's gaping maw of murderous teeth obviously nothing of fear to the smaller man.

The massive shark stopped, the point of its long snout mere centimeters away from where Toshiro's hand lay resting on the glass. Ichigo remembered from some far off science class of old that larger sharks usually were unable to sit still. If they did, they had no way to circulate water through their gills, and would quite literally drown. And yet, as the massive shark sat staring back at the young Captain for a moment that seemed far too long to be real, totally still save for its flicking gills, that seemed to be disregarded. After that awe-striking moment, Toshiro let his hand slide from the glass with a gentle smile to his lips, and, almost reluctantly, the giant beast trundled away. The group continued on their trek up the spiral path at that time, all murmuring and buzzing with thoughts. Toshiro continued to walk on the stretches of path closest to the glass, his shark friend following right alongside him.

"Well," Xavier said from next to him, and Ichigo looked down at the professor. "I'm not sure what just occurred, but it seems your compatriot has a new friend."

Ichigo smiled, nodding as he glanced over at Toshiro. "I guess so," he said, his smile widening as a quiet chuckle rolled off his lips. "Too bad he can't come home with us whenever we leave. I'm getting the feeling that Toshiro is going to miss him."

**3: Aunt**

Ichigo never questioned Toshiro's choice for a nanny. He probably would have suggested the young woman himself, or realized that she served the position best if ever in the process of looking for a nanny. Because the fact was, he didn't trust a soul more on earth than perhaps Unohana to watch their child than Toshiro's seventh seat.

Which, he had to keep reminding himself, was now Toshiro's _third_ seat.

The woman had been in his division for longer than any other after the majority of his squad having retired, save for Rangiku, who refused to leave out of loyalty. And, quite probably, wanting to save up some kind of booze fund for when she did retire. But other than numerous retirements working into the factor, Toshiro's seventh-now-third seat had well earned the position. Throughout the years her shikai, which she had achieved not too terribly long after exiting the academy, had grown strong. Dangerously so for a lowly seventh seat, thus pushing her up through the ranks to her current third seat position before all the retirements had even begun.

But the fact was also that Ichigo knew her quite well. He often saw her sitting at Matsumoto's desk, filling out the paperwork that her Lieutenant probably should have been filling out. She worked efficiently, and quietly, which he knew Toshiro appreciated, and thus appreciated himself. Her work meant that Toshiro had more time to relax and be at home. And, with their new child factored into that equation, made for a very happy spouse.

But the fact did stand that Toshiro had duties he was obligated to perform, and with the two of them being Captains, and the majority of those obligated duties being Captain's meetings, it left a great emptiness in their house that neither of them was comfortable leaving their daughter in without trustworthy supervision. And, were not Matsumoto sometimes under pressure to attend the fore listed meetings, they would have chosen her to watch their daughter. But as it stood, Lieutenants did sometimes accompany their Captains, which would leave all three of them indisposed to the baby's needs.

So, Toshiro's third-once-seventh seat had been Toshiro's first vote after all things considered, and Ichigo had immediately agreed. He had watched Akira's behavior for weeks before they actually needed her, making double, triple, and probably quadruple sure that she was trustworthy. His observations had proven wise; as he had discovered that Akira (as he had been told by Toshiro numerous times was her name) would often _instruct_ her Captain to go home when his normal office hours had wound to an end. Even when there was more work to be done, she would assure him that she would care for the rest of it, and that he was to return home and "stop bloody worrying about it".

That, and Ichigo was also thankful for the idea that Mikan would have some manner of feminine influence in her life. Even… if Akira wasn't exactly the most effeminate woman. True, she was stronger than every other man in her division save for Toshiro, and on a constant basis went toe-to-toe with even some of Squad 11's seated officers, but the fact didn't change that she was a woman, Ichigo trusted her, and he needed someone to fill in a place that neither he nor Toshiro could properly fill as the feminine influence in her life. Toshiro was already "mommy", and that would never change, but there was a certain instruction that a fellow woman could give whenever Mikan reached difficult points in her life that Ichigo and Toshiro could not, as men, ever understand.

So, from as early on as possible, Ichigo and Toshiro had introduced Mikan to her "Aunty Akira", seeing as the position of Godmother was already well staked by Unohana. (A right that Ichigo had not the balls to deny her when the fellow Captain had asked it of him.) And as early as that first meeting, Ichigo and Toshiro discovered something about Akira that neither of them knew or could fathom.

That the woman, in spite of being coarse, rough, and tough as fucking nails, had a little spot in her steely heart where Mikan fit right in. Thus making Toshiro's rather intimidating seventh-to-third seat a kind, doting, gentle, and blessedly protective aunty.

**4: Stratford-Upon-Avon**

"What do you think would happen if a Hollow got a hold of Shakespeare?"

"He's probably end up as an Arrancar. You know, the whole "pen is mightier than the sword" thing would probably get him pretty far."

"Really? I think he'd probably an Espada in that case."

"So in death was he more of a Hamlet or a Bottom?"

"What the hell are you bloody idiots talking about?" Renji barked, butting into their conversation.

"You obviously didn't read enough Shakespeare in your life, Renji."

"I would fix that, if I were you."

**5: Check Up**

"Dad, she's _fine_," Ichigo insisted, trying to snatch his daughter away from the wide arms of his father. Isshin Kurosaki glowered back at him, with a look that said with probably comical seriousness that he was the worst father in the world.

"I heard her sneeze!" the oldest Kurosaki insisted, obviously taking the bodily function as grounds to promptly panic. The little bundle in his arms seemed impervious to his angst, her little hands wandering all over his brightly covered tie.

"Dad, she's a _baby_. Babies sneeze," Ichigo attempted to explain. "I sneezed when I was a baby, didn't I?"

"Yes! But I took you in every time you did, just in case!"

"Dad, the clinic was in our house!" Ichigo growled, seriously becoming quite irked at having his daughter kept from him. At this rate he was probably going to have to get violent if the eldest Kurosaki didn't hand her over immediately. "Now quit panicking! We took her to Unohana for a checkup two days ago, and she was fine!"

Wisely, the elder Kurosaki decided not to refute the woman's medical prowess, probably being fonder of the idea of insulting Mother Teresa than the longstanding Captain of Squad 4. Begrudgingly, the older man relaxed a big, hugging his granddaughter up against his broad shoulder. The little baby cooed, her little hand reaching out and getting a rather firm fistful of the eldest Kurosaki's scruffy beard.

Which she also promptly yanked, probably coming very close to successfully dislocating the older man's jaw.

"Quite the grip this one has," Ichigo's father grit out through his crooked jaw, a tear pricking at his bleary eye. "Healthy as a horse I would say."

At which point Ichigo successfully managed to scoop his daughter off his father's shoulder. She had let go of the older man's beard the second her father's hands had come near, her tiny arms reaching out for him as he picked her up. He tucked her up under his chin, where she cuddled up happily against him. "Good girl," he said, tickling at her shoulder and eliciting a delectable giggle from her. "You keep picking on Grandpa, okay? Old Goat-Face needs someone to keep him in line."

Even Ichigo's dad couldn't keep the smile from his face when the little girl burbled happily against her daddy's shoulder.

**6: Pocky**

"Come on, Toshiro! Please?"

"No, Ichigo. I refuse to recreate that damn spaghetti scene from _Lady and the Tramp_. Especially not with a wafer covered in chocolate."

"Would you do it if it was a _strawberry_ pocky?"

**7: Tiny**

"Toshiro, I am _not_ going to let you go in there! If someone catches you, they'll kill you for sure. I can't let you just go wandering into somewhere where I can't help you," Ichigo spluttered, furious at the other man's suggestion of slinking about the crawlspace underneath the large house in order to retrieve their captured comrade. He was sure that they wouldn't have done anything too serious to Renji by that point, but time was definitely a luxury they didn't have. Especially considering the only way they had to get in was either barging in through the front door or squeezing under the crawlspace under the house.

Which, much to Ichigo's chagrin, Toshiro was quite correct about him not being able to fit in.

"Ichigo, we don't have time for your simpering," the younger man bit out, having shed his haori and apparently fully intent on crawling into the tiny, dark, meandering space that Ichigo probably should have been the one crawling through, considering it was his friend who had gotten captured. "If you can name a better solution in the next five seconds then I suggest you speak up now, otherwise I'm crawling under this house, getting to Renji, and storming our way out like we had planned."

Damn Toshiro for being so damn convincing as a commander when things got tough.

**8: Jam**

Neither Ichigo nor Toshiro could help their laughter at seeing Mikan's first Christmas gift. They'd gotten many from across the Soul Society, but the only one that had arrived that they trusted to open first was the one addressed as having come from Akira.

They were both hilariously amused because inside lay a little jar of homemade mandarin orange marmalade.

**9: Precious**

"Oh no, no. Someone obviously didn't tell you," Ichigo said, growling out over the thick blade of Zangetsu's shikai form. "These people," he nodded a head back to his house, which he was currently fighting outside, "they're precious to me. And if you lay even a fucking finger on them, I will _gut you_."

The strange man laughed languidly at him, shrugging a narrow shoulder as a pair of emotionless gray eyes peered down at him. "So I can see," he said, his tone too smug for Ichigo's liking. "But your "precious" ones on this side are not the ones I'm after." Ichigo's heart slowed dangerously, suddenly hanging on every word the mysterious man was saying. "You see, they're too close to you; you can protect them too well."

As he was speaking, the man pulled a piece of torn cloth out from inside his suit, from a deep pocket hidden against the breast. With a smile as comforting as having petroleum poured down your throat, he tossed the tattered fabric to where Ichigo stood in a rigid stance several yards away.

Ichigo snatched the fabric with his free hand, intending only to glance down for a moment at the fabric before looking back up at his foe. But that second's glance lingered, his eyes widening and his heart jumping to a roaring thunder painfully quickly. The feel of the Captain's haori fabric was familiar beneath his fingers, but it was stiff with dark, dry blood. The half-torn Squad 10 emblem stared back up at him, and he could feel the ache in his jaw as his teeth clenched as the man's continued words echoed in his head.

"It's your other "precious" people I've gone after, Ichigo Kurosaki," he drawled. "Because you're vain enough to think that you can play the part of God, and protect them all." Ichigo's heart tore in half, his grip on Zangetsu's square hilt shaking.

"I've come to rip that vanity from you, along with _everything_ you hold precious, Ichigo. Consider _him _Step 1."

**10: Names**

Ichigo wasn't sure what he could call it that would do it justice. It was burning, searing, crushing. Encompassing, and existential.

But more than anything, it _hurt_.

It was not the hurt of battle ravaging his body. It was not the hurt of watching another suffer. It was not the hurt of knowledge, or the hurt of depravity. It was not the soreness after healing. It was not the sting of emotional wounding.

It was the pain associated with absolute _failure_, but even that couldn't describe it.

It swallowed him too quickly, drowned him too fast. Even as his body moved and his sword sang, it sat in his lungs, clogged his veins. Every fiber in his body felt like liquid lead; heavy and excruciating. There were no thoughts that could wind through the iron wall of choked panic that had taken over his mind, no sense that could be made of the knot of emotions that made up his floundering heart.

But even as fury, white hot and searing, burned in him, it could not outdo or burn away the fear, and the guilt.

"Where is he?" Ichigo had ground out, almost desperately over the hand that so idly held the devastating blade of his zanpakuto like it was a stray breeze. "Where the _fuck_ is he?"

"In Hell, where he belongs for ever having loved a sick thing like you." A firm hand gripped onto his scalp, hauling him off his feet with surprising strength and flinging him like a ragdoll. "Where they will _all_ end up, Ichigo. Because of you, your vanity, and that naïve sense of hope you parade around like it's something to be proud of." Ichigo drug himself up from the wall he'd gone crashing through, spitting the blood from his mouth as it dribbled from his split lip.

"Abandon your idiotic notion of hope, Ichigo. Because there are some places in the world where it _doesn't exist_, and where it cannot be implanted by an overzealous _child_."

Then, Ichigo realized that there was in fact a name for what he was feeling in that moment as he lay battered against the sidewalk. And he hated the way it sounded, even as it sat festering in his mind. He clenched his eyes shut, ashamed at even admitting to the thought, but unable to stop it from affecting him.

It was hopelessness.

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-I'm much happier with this set than the last one. Double the length, I know, but I also wrote them whilst in a much better mood than I did yesterday. Mostly because I'm in a better mood than I was yesterday. I wrote it… all, actually, whilst sitting in my dorm laundry room, not actually doing my own laundry but rather serving as company for a friend of mine who was doing laundry. I probably should have done my laundry, but as you all know, my keyboard is more important to me than my laundry. That could be taken both in a good and bad way, depending on which you would prefer. Anyways, I only have 1 set of drabbles to catch up on before I start taking prompts again! Meaning after next chapter you are welcome to submit more ideas to me. Also note that in the short future (meaning probably later today) I will be posting a new "fic" to my account. This is actually going to be a set of Guest Drabbles that my friends are writing. Not for me, just because I've gotten them addicted to the pairing. :P So be on the lookout for those. And, if you would like to be a Guest Writer, send me something! I'm mostly doing these Guest Drabbles to provide a proper outlet if any of you want to write something related to things included in my drabbles. Take, for instance, the Grace Trains, the X-Men stuff, or encounters with my version of Ichigo's daughter. If you also just want to keep your writing (if you do any) all to your onesies, that's fine. But all authors who provide Guest Drabbles would be properly cited and accredited. Now, back to the drabbles. The only note I have on this set is that drabble 9: Precious and drabble 10: Names are related. 10 is the sequel to 9, yadda yadda. That's all for now, biffles, and I'll see you tomorrow.

8-90s love,

crypto


	11. Set 11: Provided by SillyWQ

-BRING ON THE PROMPTS, BIFFLES! That's right, you heard me. I'm back to taking drabble prompts now! Woo hoo~ I have now caught up on the massive amounts that all of you donated, which adds up to a stunning 120 drabbles out of my 200. You guys are ruining my attempts at having a longer lasting drabble project. If anything these are going to get done just as fast as my original 100! It almost makes me sad to know that these will be done soon… but I guess I mustn't think like that. Anyway, I will not be posting ANY drabbles over the next week, due to my final exams and the fact that I'm writing all of my friends and family Christmas presents this year, so I have to get those done and ready to go. Hopefully before Wednesday whence I will be leaving my printer behind at my dorm. My bootimus, bootiumus color laser printer. So sad. Anyway, for now, enjoy these drabbles, and please donate if you have any more ideas!

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**1: Table**

"Why do you think Logan seems to like Toshiro so much?" Ichigo had asked Xavier one day as they made their way down to the small dining room for some lunch. Ichigo stood by the elderly man, waiting for the small elevator to trundle down to the first floor. "I mean, he's about the last person I expected to take a liking to him, considering they're about as antipodal as they can get."

Xavier's keen gray eyes had looked up at Ichigo rather amusedly, and Ichigo had looked back down, a bit concerned as the look. "Probably for the same reasons you like him," Xavier said as they exited the elevator, leaving a marginally stunned Ichigo behind. When the ginger caught up with the man's words, he chased after the older gentleman.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, rather offended. "Logan and I are nothing alike!"

The older man's laughter told him otherwise. "Oh, but you are in so many ways. You may have a brighter outlook than Logan, and be less self-centered than he, but he's had much longer to mull over his life and dwell on his pains than you have. But there lies in the both of you a central factor, to which you both uphold quite resolutely." Ichigo looked at him curiously until he responded. "You both greatly desire to protect those you trust. And though it may be for different reasons, the core intent is the same."

Ichigo went silent for a moment, pondering over what the other man had said. He was probably correct, in spite of how much he would have like to deny it. But, as it stood, another question had come to mind. And, considering the other man's considerable life experience would probably give him a much more interesting perspective on the matter.

"Then why do you think we both like Toshiro?"

Xavier laughed, but this time a bit more gently. He didn't look up at Ichigo, rather focusing on the driving of his wheelchair. "I think both of you see parts of him in yourselves. Pained, wounded parts. Parts that both of you would like to protect and mend. But his reciprocal behavior is what drives you on, his perseverance and intelligence stimulating enough to keep you both coming back."

With that the two of them entered the small dining hall, only to find the vast majority of the rather large dining room table consumed by papers, books, and a scattered array of spectators. Most of them being the staff of the school themselves, surprisingly, and all of them seemed to be gathered around a rather large menagerie of large sheets of blueprint paper, which Toshiro, bless his icy heart, was working on.

When they entered, both Ichigo and Xavier looked to Logan and Scott for answers. Scott shrugged, apparently having just entered himself. Logan however, who was leaning against one of the walls with a smirk on his face, looked back at them rather triumphantly. "I gave him a book on aeronautics," he said simply.

Ichigo smacked his face, rubbing it in an attempt to get the oncoming groan rising up his throat from going away. Now that Logan knew that Toshiro was a genius, it was no surprise that he was _abusing_ the fact for his own purposes. But rather than having to explain himself, one of the women in the room did it for him. She was the African American woman with white hair, whom he knew went by the surname Storm most often.

"Charles, he's designing us a new plane."

**2: Holder**

"Ikkaku, take it." The bald third seat of the 11th Division looked at his Captain almost fearfully, blinking worriedly as an armful of three year old child was shoved his way.

"B-but, Captain," he tried to splutter, doing his best to avoid having to hold the small child.

"HOLD. IT."

Crumbling under the menacing order, the balding man quickly took the small child as it cooed with interest in his arms. "But, Captain, I don't want to break it," he mumbled out halfheartedly, truly afraid of breaking or hurting the small child.

"And I don't want to get broken for having it," Kenpachi Zaraki growled back, making to walk away from his poor unsuspecting subordinate.

Surprised by the answer, Ikkaku trailed after his Captain, obviously not understanding the extenuating circumstances at hand. "Wait, Captain! What do you mean?"

"I mean that as soon as Ichigo and Toshiro find out that Rangiku has lost their child, you can bet your bottom dollar that they're going to be looking for her." Much to Ikkaku's surprise, he actually saw his Captain _shudder_. "And the last thing I want to deal with is an angry Mama Dragon. And I wouldn't recommend handing her off if I were you; the more distance that gets between Toshiro and that baby, the less likely you are to survive."

**3: Up**

Scott looked over at Storm incredulously, his brown brows kicking up over his glasses as he looked at her, then down to the blueprints Toshiro was working on. "You can't be serious!" he barked, finally drawing Toshiro's attention away from his drawings. Much to Scott's chagrin it seemed, Toshiro was still only mildly interested by the outburst. "He's just a kid; he doesn't know a lick about flying."

"Well, that's not true," Ichigo inputted before Toshiro had the chance to. He met Toshiro's glance for a moment, his heart thrilling at the gentle smile on the other man's lips. "Toshiro probably knows more about flying than most people."

Scott still seemed rather unconvinced. "Well what have you gone up with before, then?" he asked, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. Ichigo did not miss the rather content look that Scott was getting from Logan, and almost smirked to himself.

Toshiro's smirk was contagious, and it passed to Ichigo's lips just as it began to grace Toshiro's pale ones. "Let's just say I have my own equipment."

**4: Void**

It was something like trying to hear inside a vacuum. There was absolutely nothing; no sound, no movement. Just emptiness. But the emptiness was burning. It seethed, undulated with fevered emotion, and yet froze with paralyzing intensity.

Ichigo could never have imagined how frightening an enraged Toshiro could be. He'd seen the man's anger, true anger, bubble up in battle. It had scared him then, more than anything else in the world. But it paled now in comparison to the man's _fury_. But as he sat there, garnering his split lip and otherwise well wounded body, he was unsure whether to be honored by it or remained frightened.

Because even as the gray-eyed man who had been threatening him backed away, wide eyed with fear, there was a dangerous malice to Toshiro. Ichigo could feel it in his spiritual pressure. But that did not change the relief that flooded his heart at seeing the other man, pristine as a glowing testament to the lies the gray-eyed man had been feeding him from the start. Nor did it keep him from reveling in the battle that proceeded after his arrival, though it was not a short one by any means.

Ichigo could only watch, trying to stave off the pain from his own wounds, as Toshiro's rage altered his normal fighting style. He was usually calm; pristine, calculating, and generally slow in pace. But all of that had shifted. Now hate lashed across his eyes as he watched his enemy's every move, his move sharp and strong as the penetrated every opening that hung open, even if it was only for a split second or two.

At the end of it all, he didn't walk away unwounded like Ichigo had anticipated him to. And even though his wounds were minor, Ichigo could tell that the other was fraught with tire. His opponent was much worse off, but the lingering emptiness in the grey eyes as the man made to retreat did not leave behind the means for a satisfying victory. If anything, they promised retribution, which neither he nor Toshiro were particularly partial to.

But as Toshiro strode over to him, kneeling to help the Substitute stand, he realized that more than the crushing force of Toshiro's anger, left behind was the void of how much it cost him. How much hate, anger, and rage taxed his body. And Ichigo could tell that, were Toshiro not preoccupied with trying to keep him up, he would probably be having a great deal of a hard time keeping himself up. But with the distraction and point of focus, he was able to get them safely back to Urahara's, where he probably would have promptly disappeared to stew over his own thoughts had Ichigo not prevented him from doing so.

Because after such a strange battle, and such a strange string of events, the last thing he wanted to do was knowingly let Toshiro slip back into the void of his own thoughts. Instead, he asked Toshiro to stay, and gave the other man another focal point to ground himself on as the two of them, both shell-shocked in their own ways, slowly landed back down on earth.

**5: Tell**

Ichigo tapped the expensive green felt of the cherry wood poker table nervously. He tried to keep his face neutral, keeping his breath even as he stared down at the two cards in his hands. As far as his lucky streak was concerned, it was all over. He'd weaseled his way into the final round of the poker tournament by sheer dumb luck, and now said dumb luck had meandered away. Left with a bloody two of diamonds and a seven of spades sitting in his hand, Ichigo had little hope of achieving victory, considering the majority of the cards already laid down by the house were face cards.

A pair of twinkling oceanic eyes watched him from their seat across the table, and he resisted the urge to groan.

The defeat wouldn't have been nearly so humiliating if it wasn't his spouse who was the final competitor, and if he hadn't been bragging about winning the grand prize just for him all along. As it turned out, Toshiro seemed perfectly competent of winning it himself, as made obvious by the fact that he was the only other person left of what had once been a full table.

Hoping on a dream that Toshiro's blank stare was a bluff, Ichigo decided to risk calling him on it. Even though he would have to show his cards first, it was something he had to risk. He had to know what the other man had gotten, and had to at least know if he'd been defeated truly. He refused to fold; his pride was not yoked to take a beating lying face down in the mud.

Even though that's what he felt like he was doing, at that point.

Especially when Toshiro turned over his cards, revealing an ace of spades and a jack of the same suit; matching all too well the king and queen of spades that lay face up on the house table. Ichigo groaned, burying his head in his hands as Toshiro smirked triumphantly over his massive stack of colorful poker chips. The white haired man stood, offering a hand for the ginger headed man to shake.

Ichigo begrudgingly took it, knowing that being humble was the only thing that was going to save him. When Toshiro had collected his winnings and loosened his tie, they both left for home in general peaceable, and in Toshiro's case, humored silence.

"I still don't get how you beat me," Ichigo said, deciding to break the silence himself. "I was doing so well all along. I guess my luck just ran out on that last turn, huh?"

Toshiro, surprisingly, shook his head in denial of Ichigo's statement. "No," he said. "Your luck didn't run out. The cards just ran out on you."

Ichigo looked over at the other curiously. The only way he could tell that the other was sorely amused was because of the strange quirk that tugged at what had probably once been a dimple in Toshiro's cheek when he was trying to resist smiling. It was a tell, Ichigo realized, one that, had he not been too busy fretting over his own cards, he probably would have seen. "Then what did happen?" he asked, now curious. "Did Akira stack the deck or something when she dealt?"

Toshiro laughed. "No, it had nothing to do with Akira's shuffling. It was just because of the simple fact that I can count cards that I knew your hand wasn't good. If your face didn't make it clear enough first," he teased, nudging Ichigo's arm playfully. Ichigo groaned, rolling his eyes. Of _course_ Toshiro would know how to count cards.

"So, tell me, Toshiro, what are you going to do with all the prize money?" Ichigo said, leaning down and kissing his spouse on the neck in spite of the humbling defeat. Toshiro seemed to have been waiting for him to do so, and dipped his neck to kiss at the side of Ichigo's face. Surprised at the rather quick, and undeniably affectionate response, Ichigo looked up at his spouse curiously.

"Consider it an investment in the future," he said with a little coy quirk to his lips.

Ichigo's eyes were probably as big as dinner plates at that point, but there was no lie in Toshiro's eyes to make him think for a moment that the other wasn't serious. "Toshiro," he whispered quietly, resting his hand on one silky cheek, "do you mean what I think you mean?"

"If I mean that we're going to have to be going to see Captain Unohana for some arrangements soon, then yes."

**6: Bring**

Ichigo never really enjoyed waking up with Toshiro not at least in bed next to him. It made him feel uneasy; like he'd done something wrong. But when he woke up early one Saturday morning to find Toshiro gone, he didn't have that ominous feeling settling over him. He'd sat up, looking around to see if the other was in their bedroom anywhere. He wasn't, but his side of the bed was still cooler than the surrounding air; indicating he hadn't left long ago. Just as he was about to lumber out of bed, Toshiro walked in, fully dressed and apparently clean. Startled, he blinked curiously at his husband.

"Ichigo," he said, walking in a few more steps. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon. I'm sorry if I woke you up." At that moment the gentle smell of ginger wandered into the room, and Ichigo took a deep breath, drinking in the delectable smell.

"Why are you up so early?" he asked, standing up and letting his pajama pants settle down his legs. "Are you cooking?"

Toshiro nodded, rifling through the drawer of his nightstand, flicking through some papers until he took out one, folded it, and set it into the folds of his shihakusho. He glanced back over at his husband. "Yes. I'm headed out to Junrinan today. I was just coming in to let you know where I was headed."

The answer surprised the taller Captain, and he just managed to catch Toshiro's narrow arm as the other man made to leave their room once more. "Wait, why are you headed out to Junrinan? You're not going on a mission are you?"

Toshiro laughed good naturedly, slowing for a moment and turning back to face Ichigo. "No, I'm not going on a mission," he said with a sweet smile on his lips. "I'm headed out to see my grandmother. It's her birthday today, and I was going to surprise her."

"Can I come?" Ichigo asked, obviously startling Toshiro by his sudden question. He'd probably been expecting Ichigo to be surprised, but the fact was that Ichigo's mind was too hung up on the fact that this was his chance to finally meet Toshiro's grandmother. "I sent her a letter last week, but I'd really like to come and meet her if that's okay."

Toshiro's face lit up, and Ichigo smiled back at his spouse. "Of course you can come. Though, you'd better hurry. I'm almost finished cooking and then I'm headed out. I want to get there before dawn when all the festivities start." Releasing his husband, Ichigo made a bee line for the shower, more than willing to sacrifice their Saturday morning tradition of bathing together in order to have his chance to meet the one woman in all of Soul Society how may know as much about Toshiro as him.

**7: Net**

"Catch of the day, I think," Ichigo said, hauling up the net full of his rather unhappy husband.

"Ha ha, it is to laugh," Toshiro bit out, glaring at the other through the soul-containing net. One of Urahara's most recent inventions, it was made to contain vagabond souls (not unlike the strange number of them that had been crawling out of the woodwork to cause trouble as of late). But he'd needed a volunteer to see how well it worked; and how well it could stand up against different levels of spiritual pressure.

Thus far, it was barely enough to keep in a Captain with a limiter and an un-released shikai, but Ichigo knew that data was probably augmented by the fact that Toshiro was more than marginally pissed.

**8: Flow**

"I think I'm ready to leave, Toshiro."

His husband had looked up at him with a grain of surprise in his teal eyes. The morning newspaper and his steadily cooling espresso forgotten, Toshiro turned his full attention to him. They'd been in their seaside villa for more than a month, and though Ichigo had enjoyed every moment spent with Toshiro since Aizen's departure, there was something else itching in him now. It was a curiosity, an interest in where the Grace could take them next. It had been lingering on his mind for several days, but he'd kept his words locked to his tongue, hoping to keep his mind from jumping to any rash conclusions.

"Alright." Ichigo was surprised at how simple Toshiro's reaction was, and the firmness behind his voice. Ichigo's curious look obviously made its way to the other Captain's attention, because he explained shortly after. "Wherever we go is fine with me, Ichigo, so long as you're with me."

Ichigo smiled at him, then, gingerly. "I wouldn't leave you behind if my life depended on it," he said, and he offered a hand to his husband as he stood from their kitchen table. Toshiro took the hand, following him up. "After all, you said it was natural, right? This is just Home Base; it's only right that we leave as more people flow in."

Toshiro nodded, a smile on his lips. "Indeed. I do believe it's high past time that we made room for someone else that needs this place." He ended with a strong look to his spouse, "We're more than strong enough to survive the rushing tide back out to the ocean, now."

**9: Thin**

"You're walking a thin line, Logan, I hope you know that," Ichigo told the gruff man one day, tossing down a card as their game of Egyptian Rat Screw slowly began to draw to a close.

Logan's dark eyes looked unamused at him over his smoldering cigar. "Don't worry, I won't go stealing your little Ice Prince," he grumbled, though a bit more grudgingly than Ichigo had anticipated. Regardless, that was not the topic he had intended to broach with the other man.

He shook his fiery head. "That's not what I meant," he said, smirking at his triumph over the older man, who swore over his cigar, tapping the ashes into a nearby tray as Ichigo recollected the cards for another round. "He's too old for you, anyway."

Logan rolled his eyes. "If he's too old for me, then he's way too damn old for you, Hot Shot," he grumbled, before realizing the oddity of Ichigo's previous statement. "Wait, how old is he, then?"

"Somewhere around the range of one hundred and fifty," Toshiro said, setting himself down on another chair between the two of them, settling his elbows on the table they were playing on. "I can't remember the exact number. Lost track after so many. Mind if I join in?"

Ichigo shrugged, dealing them all in and letting the game recommence over Logan's flabbergasted expression. "_You're_ a hundred and fifty years old?" he asked. "You've gotta be pulling my leg."

"My hands are holding cards at the moment, so they can't exactly be pulling on your leg," Toshiro droned out, flicking a card down. "And the thin line Ichigo was talking about was self-destructive behavior. Get a dog maybe, or a cat. Or even a boyfriend to invest your time in."

"Just because you Japanese queers have the balls to be public about it doesn't mean that people who act like you do are queer too," Logan growled out, obviously not appreciating any of the above implications.

"And just because you Americans are bashful about your modified sexual orientation doesn't mean that what I've said isn't valid," Toshiro said, still miraculously calm as Ichigo was all but laughing his guts out at the blush boiling under Logan's thick sideburns. "But the fact stands, I'm still too old for you, and I'm taken anyway."

**10: Grind**

"Kurosaki, _now_ is not the time for _this_."

"Aww, c'mon, Toshiro, why not?"

"Because we have a Captain's meeting in _five_ minutes, and even the baggiest shihakusho pants in the world couldn't hide _that_."

"…shit."

* * *

-BRING ON THE PROMPTS, BIFFLES! As stated above, I am now taking drabble donations once more! Until I get some more I will obviously not be updating, but I am also going to be donating much of my time this week to writing out my Christmas presents and trying not to kill myself over finals. I only have 80 slots left for drabbles, which may seem like a lot, but with the way you guys donate it probably won't last long. But now, over halfway done with this set, I'm faced with a problem: what the hell am I going to do when this set is done? I'm not sure if I should continue writing drabbles, or perhaps start some manner of AU fic to absorb my time along with B2B (which I plan to continue to only update monthly). I have reached an impasse with myself and what I want to do. Input from all of you would be lovely. Now, onto the drabble notes. Drabble 4: Void was a follow up on drabble 9 & 10 from the last set. Drabble 6: Bring was a continuation of an old drabble of mine from 100 Words I Would Say, from set 5 called "Letter". This is for xTKx, who requested the sequel. I do plan on continuing to the actual meeting, dearie, so hold out for that. Drabble 8: Flow was also a continuation on an old set of drabbles from the original 100 relating to my Grace Trains theory. That's about all for now; I'll see you probably after this week and after I've gotten more donations! Peace biffles!

8-90s love,

crypto


	12. Set 12: Provided by Ink on Ice

-For those of you wondering what the hell I'm doing, this is actually one of my Christmas gifts for a friend of mine. She's a friend of mine in real life, in case you were wondering. I also feel indebted to her because of all the advertising she did for me on her profile. I didn't ask her to; she's just a devoted friend and reader. 0.0 I feel undeserving of such praise, so I try to repay it with words. Anyway, this is for Ink on Ice, and this is the set of drabbles she donated to me to do for Christmas. Sorry for those of you that don't celebrate Christmas; but these aren't religious in any way. They're romantic moments, so please don't get offended. D: That is not their intention.

* * *

**1: Tree**

"What a _fascinating_ tradition."

Ichigo laughed, sighing contentedly as he and Toshiro sat before the large fir tree that Logan and Scott had cut down from the woods around the school. The tree was covered with multicolored lights, having been decorated by the younger children earlier on in the day. Unique ornaments hung from every bough, a glimmering star mounting the tip of the tree. Together, they took up one corner of one of the large leather couches that had been moved to accommodate the massive tree. Toshiro, in all of his vast knowledge, had only heard scarcely of Christmas, and there was an almost naïve joy he seemed to get from all of its festivities.

Ichigo couldn't help but think it to be much like a child's, the glee that he seemed to get from all the festivities. But more than anything, basked in the warm light of the tree, Ichigo couldn't help but find him more than the slightest bit unfairly beautiful. His wide, perceptive eyes were glassy with comfort, the lights from the tree glancing off those teal orbs in the most fantastic colors. And his silver hair, seemingly translucent in the gold light, picked up the warm colors and turned an almost shining gold.

It was only when he realized that Toshiro was smiling at him that he realized he'd been unabashedly staring. He didn't blush, instead just leaning into the other and nuzzling his nose under Toshiro's chin. Toshiro's legs were tucked up under him, his little feet tucked under where Ichigo's hip lay against his own. Ichigo didn't mind the cold feet; too preoccupied with everything else going on to be bothered by them too much. In fact, they only served to add to the gentle intimacy of the moment.

Because even though they were in a school full of people, immersed in a country that was not their own, it was home. Because home wasn't about the physical location. Home wasn't about the traditions. Home wasn't defined by the gifts. No, this was home because _they_ were the ones that made it home, and it would follow them wherever the two of them chose to go, Ichigo could just feel it.

He also didn't realize just how close they'd gotten until he could feel Toshiro's cool breath on his lips. He looked into the other's cerulean eyes, admiring in that last moment just how uniquely beautiful those snowy lashes were. "Think I'm gonna steal your first kiss now, 'Shiro," he mumbled, almost unable to take the modicum of space that rested between their two faces. "Hope ya don't mind."

Ichigo just barely caught the whispered "Not at all," that Toshiro gave him before he pressed their lips together. The world held still for that moment, and he could only revel in the coolth that brushed at his skin. He felt his arm move of its own volition, slowly circling around the smaller man's narrow hip and pulling them closer gently. At almost the same moment, he felt one of Toshiro's narrow arms reach up to wrap around the back of his neck, the fingers of that dainty hand soothingly combing through the soft hair tucked behind his ear.

When he pulled away, he felt like he'd just touched part of heaven. His heart was still high in his throat, but it was beating slowly, as if not willing to thrill for him in order to cherish the moment. Toshiro's eyes, which had fluttered shut, drew open, and Ichigo came nigh close to melting on the spot from the look the other was giving him. It wasn't lustful, wasn't romantic, it was just peaceful and contented. It shook warmth into all those stagnant places in his body, and made him be the one blushing for once.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his lips feeling large and clumsy to him even as he spoke through them. It was like when they weren't attached to Toshiro's, they didn't fit anywhere else.

Toshiro just chuckled lightly, the pads of his fingers still drawing soothing circles along the side of Ichigo's neck. It was lulling him to sleep, almost, even as he lay warming against Toshiro's shoulder. "Not at all."

**2: Candle**

During their short sojourn in the world of the living, shortly into Toshiro's pregnancy, Ichigo had come upon the strange idea of a date by candlelight. He had kept it to himself, saving it until Christmas Eve when Toshiro arrived back after going out to coffee with Orihime. She had all but been ecstatic to help, and did a phenomenal job of keeping her mouth shut about all of Ichigo's plans. So when Toshiro had arrived back, his hair dusted with snow and his cheeks kissed with a chill induced blush, he'd come back to a rather large surprise.

A full three course meal, and their entire rented apartment (borrowed from Uryuu whilst he was out of country with his father) lit only by the gentle glow of tea candles. He'd been horribly flattered, but somehow Ichigo had convinced him to go through with the entire dinner regardless. Slowly the night had progressed, and the candles had burned down and out save for one as they lay out on a blanket Ichigo had spread out over the living room floor. Toshiro was leaning against his chest, promptly slipping into sleep after being stuffed with warm food and romantic words. But Ichigo's own hands remained busy, lazily sprawling over the warm curve to his husband's stomach.

"You seem enchanted," Toshiro had mumbled against his shoulder sleepily, promptly startling him out of his thoughts as the smaller man settled a bit more closely to him. "And it's not even born yet."

Ichigo let his chin curl over the top of Toshiro's head as it returned to resting against his shoulder. He nuzzled his nose into those snowy locks, listening to Toshiro breathe slowly against him. "Nothing in the world could hold a candle to this," he whispered, as he too began to doze off. And that way they remained, lying against each other in the dark far after the last tea light had had burned down to its last fiber of wick before spluttering out quietly in its own wax. Thus leaving the two in complete darkness and silence, only with each other to nurse in the warm, yet encompassing dark.

**3: Ornament**

Ichigo always hated the term "arm candy". It offended him to think that spouses could think so little of each other as to be entranced only by appearances. True, he was madly in love with every part of his own husband's physique, but what kept him crawling back into bed next to that man every night was not the sex, was not the body that cooled him. It was the man's heart, calm and steadying, that kept him rooted where he was. It was the true blue nature of his personality that kept Ichigo attracted, and he only ever saw Toshiro as an ornament to represent his hard work. The years he'd spent putting all of his love and care into a man whose heart had been solid ice their first meeting, but had melted under his care to become his partner, his soul mate. But that ornament was only for his heart, where it belonged, and where it could not be shared with the public eye.

**4: Tinsel**

When their daughter was three, Ichigo and Toshiro introduced her to her first Christmas. The holiday and New Year's season was greatly celebrated in the Soul Society, but Christmas was a demographic that was rare. But they'd taken her to Orihime's house, where she'd gotten the full blown experience; presents and all. But her favorite part, regardless of presents or other gifts, seemed to be the silver tinsel that Orihime decorated her tree with. Which, in all good heart, she would always remove and use to tie tiny, silver bows in her "mama's" hair, thinking that's where they belonged, seeing as they always kept her little length of soft orange hair tied back with a ribbon at the base of her neck.

Orihime never minded, thinking it was far too cute to scold her for, and far too nice to see Ichigo smiling so widely to infringe upon his happiness.

**5: Menorah**

"What's wrong, Toshiro?" Ichigo asked, a bit concerned at the expression on his companion's face. It was a strange mix of emotions, making it hard for Ichigo to interpret properly. But with all of the different holidays on display and being celebrated at the stroll, he couldn't help but be worried. Toshiro probably hadn't known about the existence of most of them, and so there was a risk of him being offended in some way.

But the more Ichigo looked at Toshiro's expression, the more he realized that it was actually reverent; an expression he'd actually never seen on the other's pale features before. "Nothing is wrong, Ichigo," he said, seeming a bit breathless as he shook his head. "It's so very right, that there now exists a time when some understanding and respect can be shared amongst groups." His look then turned to Ichigo, and he held onto the other's hand a bit tighter. "It may not be perfect coexistence, but the fact that so many people from so many different backgrounds can share one joy is… _phenomenal_."

Ichigo smiled, unable to keep it in at the other's sweet words. He leaned down, capturing the Captain's cool lips with his own for a lingering moment under the glowing, wavering light of a candle-lit menorah, affirming his agreement with all of the above sentiments without ever needing to open his mouth.

**6: Caroling**

Even though Ichigo and Toshiro had long since moved on from needing Home Base to return to, they still made the tradition of returning every Christmas. The Grace always knew where to go, and the employees at the Station, in spite being different every damn time, had gotten to know that particular route so well that they hardly even needed to give the two tickets anymore. But Ichigo was always glad to return to the Station, finding it always interesting to see who he could spot amongst the crowd. Most were new faces, bright and sometimes nervous. But others were usuals, calm and knowing. He and Toshiro had gotten enough practice with the Trains to be of the latter category, so it was really no problem at all for them to go bustling about the different trains to the stops they were interested in.

But it was always the Grace that took them Home, and Ichigo was always more than okay with that. Seeing as the Grace had never failed him, he had long ago foregone the need to fear their destination. Some of the smaller trains seemed less reliable; their routes more winding and their ride less smooth. But the Grace, behemoth and mother that she was, was the smoothest, sweetest, most reliable ride of them all. And, though it could have just been Ichigo's imagination, she always seemed to run just a little bit faster whenever he and Toshiro were headed Home for Christmas.

They would always arrive at least a week beforehand, if only for the sake of attending all of the festivities that set the little seaside town alight with joy. There would be ropes of lights strewn from roof to roof; showering the snowy streets with warm, dancing light that flickered in time with the lilting music that permeated about the air with the smell of cider and warm wassail. But what Ichigo and Toshiro liked most about the festivities was one night in particular, probably not three or four days before Christmas, when every child in the town would band together with their parents and go caroling through the streets.

Ichigo and Toshiro would always wait at their house, a little wedged place tucked onto a wide cobblestone street whose windows were sadly left dark most days, seeing as they only stayed there very seldom. When the large menagerie of children arrived, they would come out and stand on their porch, listening as any good audience before joining the band of singers as they made their way through the city. Eventually their trend began to catch on, and on most years, by the time they reached the last street, almost every man, woman, and child had gathered in the street where they would all proceed to sing one last carol, the winking stars above the only appreciative audience they would need.

**7: Family Dinner**

It usually wasn't within Byakuya's habit to be hospitable. He wasn't even generous on most days, let alone thoughtlessly so. But one winter, he changed that reputation. Because one winter, Ichigo and Toshiro had received an invitation at their home, requesting their presence at the first ever Kuchiki Banquet; a special gathering in thanks to friends and family whom were to be celebrated in the New Year. Ichigo had been under every assumption that it had been of Rukia's doing, but when she sought him out the next day, asking about hers and Renji's invitation, that had been proven incorrect.

Toshiro, however, seemed to have seen through the mysterious façade down to what it really meant to the head of the Kuchiki House. Toshiro saw it as the aloof man finally apologizing for his mistakes; and making an attempt to repay all those whom he had caused damage to. It was like A Christmas Carol, but without the ghosts. Ichigo had laughed at the comparison, but had agreed, already knowing why exactly Byakuya had invited them in particular.

Because as much as he would have liked to think that Byakuya was admitting to old mistakes, Ichigo knew he wasn't. But he was satisfied that he was apologizing for recent mistakes, considering the most grievous one he'd made had almost cost Ichigo his husband. And for that, Ichigo was more than willing to let the man serve dinner for a night. But Toshiro, being much more the intellectual gentleman that he was, had not been satisfied with letting the older man stew in his defeats. Both he and Ichigo had chosen to go, arriving even bearing a gift for their host, which the elder Kuchiki had obviously not been expecting, judging by the look on his face when Toshiro handed over the small gift. But more than that, he and Toshiro had enjoyed themselves, along with the rather large menagerie of people Byakuya had assembled. Thus, between the two of them, they had taken the strain off the other man's hands to make the night enjoyable for all. The pleasant talk lasted on late into the night, leaving his doors happier than it had come in.

But before Ichigo and Toshiro had the chance to leave after having said their thanks more than enough times, Byakuya had insisted they stay. Toshiro, who was admittedly weary by that point, had agreed only in order to placate the other man's pride. Ichigo, however, who was more worried for his husband and his health, had been a little more hesitant to extend their stay at the dwindling party.

It proved well worth the wait, however, when Byakuya offered his open and public blessing of their House. Both Toshiro and Ichigo had been stunned by the offered proclamation, knowing how serious such a gesture would be. But Byakuya seemed unafraid of the relation that may as well have been family according to the social standards of the Houses. "A life for a life," he'd said. "I owe both of you that and more; I can only think honoring your House and its future would serve to pay that debt." And as much as Ichigo was sure Toshiro would have liked to contest the fact that Byakuya didn't owe them anything, they knew the man's pride was bruised enough as it was, and that allowing him this one vice would be a greater gift to him than anything.

"Thank you, Byakuya," Ichigo had said, unsure whether to bow or kneel under the other man's sentiments. Toshiro seemed to be at a similar impasse, but as it seemed, neither was necessary, as the head of the Kuchiki House did something he rarely ever did.

He gave a shadow of a smile, faint and fleeting. "Consider it nothing," he said, turning to head back into his manor from the courtyard they'd been milling in. But over his shoulder, he added just as subtly as his smile, "Brothers."

**8: Gift**

"Maybe we should've gotten you guys some mistletoe for Christmas."

Ichigo looked over at Logan, blinking slowly as he registered the other's words in his head. He was still half asleep, and headed to the kitchen in hopes of getting some coffee to wake him up when the other had stopped him. "What do you mean?" he asked, not liking the smug look on the other man's face.

"Well, if we'd given you some mistletoe, at least you would have had that to excuse the fact that the two of you were snogging on the couch in the common room last night."

Ichigo blushed, but held his head high and kept walking. "I don't need anything to excuse me kissing him," Ichigo said, striding into the kitchen where Toshiro stood, leaning against the counter and nursing a cup of coffee of his own. He too seemed half asleep, and only offered his boyfriend a gentle, sleepy smile as a greeting. Ichigo smiled back, leaning down to peck at his cheek before pouring himself a cup of coffee and sticking his tongue out at Logan.

Toshiro just looked between the both of them, sighing to himself, muttering something about moronic, jealous cockfights. But, luckily for Ichigo, the shorter man still let him stand next to him as the taller ginger leaned against the counter, sliding an arm around the other's fair waist. Logan looked at the two of them skeptically, earning a few vacant stares in return.

"What's with the public displays of affection all of a sudden?" he asked, resisting wandering into the kitchen until his question was answered.

"Ichigo's Christmas present," Toshiro supplied before the ginger wrapped around him could think of a proper answer.

Logan looked at the Substitute with a scandalous look on his face. "What, did you pop his cherry too?"

Neither of the two had any idea what that meant. But regardless, Ichigo shook his head. "No," he said, a gentle smile on his lips as Toshiro leaned a bit closer into him, "he just finally decided to let me actually date him."

**9: Ribbon**

"This is Matsumoto's poor attempt at being droll," Toshiro grumbled from his place on Ichigo's desk, apparently not at all too pleased by the idea of being bare from the waist up save for the ruby red silk ribbon twirled haphazardly around his arms and torso. There were two pert little bows tied where the ribbon ended, one sitting like a little necktie right where Toshiro's sharp little collarbones met, the other resting at the bases of his thumbs where Rangiku had tied his wrists together.

"Really?" Ichigo drawled, hooking his index finger around the ribbon wrapped round his husband's wrists, pulling him forward as he bowed his head, successfully bringing their faces rather close together. "Because I don't think it's very funny. However," he said, taking that same finger and hooking it around the ribbon hung around Toshiro's neck instead, "I have to admit, I _like it_. _A lot._"

**10: Prime Rib**

"That's some strong horseradish you've got there, Akira," Ichigo wheezed out, his eye twitching from the potent sauce the young woman had offered with her famed Prime Rib Christmas dinner. The steak itself was perfectly done; each thick cut seasoned just lightly enough to have a distinctive flavor, whilst still retaining the hearty flavor of the meat itself. But Akira made a horseradish sauce that was made to accompany the meat, and though she had given Ichigo plenty of warning beforehand, he had rather unwisely chosen to ignore her.

Now, as he sat fanning his mouth, he wished he had paid a bit more attention. He was almost afraid that he wasn't going to be able to even _taste_ the rest of his dinner, considering it felt like the horseradish has singed the taste buds right off his tongue.

"I warned you," Toshiro's seventh-made-third seat quipped, biting into a piece of steak with an unholy large dob of the killer sauce on it. "S'not my fault you don't listen."

* * *

-Ta da! Merry Christmas Inky! I hope these turned out well. I pretty much melted myself writing them. I probably shouldn't have been listening to Josh Groban's sexy voice sing Christmas carols while writing these, but I couldn't help it. It was the only way I could get in the mood. In any case, I'm apologizing to the rest of you readers because I still won't be updating for a while yet; I still have more than a dozen Christmas gifts to write, so I probably won't get more drabbles up until next week. In the mean time, please enjoy these, and have yourselves a merry little Christmas. Or, for the rest of you who celebrate other things, please just be safe, and enjoy yourselves in whatever ways you choose. Peace out, biffles!

8-90s love,

crypto


	13. Set 13: Provided by Corisanna

-I know you're probably all wondering where the hell I disappeared to over these past few weeks. I know; going from updating daily to not updating for weeks is a bit of a jump. But the fact of the matter was that I was working, and at home for the holidays, so all incentive to work was flushed down the toilet in favor of humoring my love for telling stories and consuming copious amounts of eggnog. What can I say? I'm a sucker for festivities. Anyway, I'm back, and still taking on prompts. This set is from Corisanna. Sorry they took so long dear; I hope they make up for the absence. Hope you all had a good holiday season, and I look forward to hearing from you all in the New Year!

* * *

**1: Hips**

Toshiro had this intoxicating little habit that Ichigo both loved and hated sometimes. Most of the time, he loved it because it was done specifically for the humor of his audience. But there were other times that he hated it, because sometimes he _wasn't_ the only audience present to observe it, and it made him insatiably jealous.

But regardless of circumstance, it was just the slightest, tantalizing tilt to his hips when he walked that drove Ichigo to absolute depravity. He knew most women who did something similar, but in a more naturally dramatic fashion.

However, it was driven home time and again how much _better_ Toshiro was at it, because it only took one step to have Ichigo totally transfixed and well on the road to being completely undone.

**2: Soccer**

"Go on, Toshiro," Ichigo encouraged, nudging the young Captain towards the door with his elbow. The young man was just pulling a shirt over his head, so he had to wrestle for a minute before he could glare at Ichigo properly. The younger man did so, but calmly as he brushed out the minor wrinkles in the collared shirt as it settled properly over his narrow shoulders.

"For the last time, no, Kurosaki," he stated simply, flicking the hairs on the back of his neck up over the folded collar of the shirt.

"Why not?" the taller man persisted, following the other out as he was slinging on his own jacket. "She just wants you to show her a few moves. She swears that you've played soccer before. You don't even have to teach the whole team, just her, just for a few minutes."

For probably about the hundredth time since he'd arrived, Toshiro rolled his eyes. "I've never played soccer; I don't know the sportsmanship of it, don't know the theory behind good method; I'd be no use to her. I can play because I can move the ball across the field and kick it into the goal. Any science that it may have beyond that is far beyond me."

"Beyond you?" Ichigo raised his brows, a sly grin on his face. "Beyond the prodigious genius of the 10th Squad? I didn't think such a thing was possible! Surely if you can't do it, no one can. If only-"

Ichigo's next words were forced off his tongue in a rush of breath, as Toshiro had ducked back to dig a very pointy little elbow under the other man's rib cage; successfully brutalizing his solar plexus and leaving him breathless and _sore_. In fact, Ichigo didn't become truly aware of what had happened until he hear Karin laughing at him as she stood next to Toshiro looking down at him with a smirk on her face.

"I told you he wouldn't go for it, Ichigo."

**3: Kon**

"Holy hell, Toshiro," Ichigo swore, rubbing his chin as he glanced over at the Captain sitting calmly on his windowsill. "What did you do to me?"

"That damnable _animal_ you keep in your body whenever you're away tried to pull something on me. I wasn't about to let it. Especially not when it was doing probably the worst impression of you I've ever seen." The young Captain seemed wholly unperturbed as he flipped a creamy page of the thick volume of Shakespeare he was reading.

Flicking a seething glare at the small stuffed animal that was attempting to crawl back into his closet, Ichigo snatched the thing by its brown felt mane, yanking it back out before it could get away. "Just what the hell were you trying to do?" he barked, more than displeased at the thought of Kon having tried to do _anything_ to Toshiro while in his body.

"You're the only one that gets any anymore, you selfish bastard! I'm dying in here!" the little animal squealed back, causing both he and Toshiro to burst into unceremonious laughter.

**4: Recipe**

Ichigo knew for a long time that Toshiro always got a veiled pleasure out of hanging out with Ichigo and his rowdy friends. In spite of his usually introverted personality, and his usual denial, there was just a twinkling gleam he got in his eyes whenever their vagabond group of weirdoes got together to do something strange or stupid. Which was most of the time, considering alcohol was almost always involved.

However, Ichigo only realized that Toshiro purposefully made sure that alcohol was always involved whenever Renji tagged along, because no matter what the occasion, the redhead would always end up getting stone faced drunk. And, once again, regardless of occasion, would end up singing the worst karaoke possible whilst in the throes of his liquor induced stupor. But Ichigo also realized that, even while Renji would be hollering his lungs out, Toshiro wouldn't be looking at the rowdy red head.

Rather, he'd be keeping furtive glances locked on Ichigo; taking in every smile or laugh he let out in response to Renji's antics like they were water to a man in the desert.

**5: Yukata**

Toshiro, whenever he arrived home late from the Division 10 Offices, would often find that Ichigo had stayed up to wait for him. The other man would usually be in his sleeping yukata by that time, a nightly blue piece that Toshiro had given him for some occasion too many seasons ago to really recall. He would just be sitting out on their back deck, stretched out over an obscene amount of space, either writing notes to himself for ideas or reading some thick volume he'd probably kyped from Toshiro's office.

But every time, rather than going immediately back to join him, Toshiro would don his own sleeping yukata, a light, dusky blue number that Ichigo had given him along the same occasion by which Toshiro had justified giving Ichigo his, and then proceed to go back and join his husband, if only for the sake of enjoying the night air and discussing with him whatever he had been reading or writing.

**6: Princess**

"Toshiro, do you really thing _now_ is the best time for this?"

"Yes," his snowy companion griped from above him, having already easily succeeded in maneuvering (tripping/tackling) him to the floor of the clinic examination room he'd agreed to talk in. From which position on the floor Toshiro had proceeded to sit on his stomach, his irked, yet pouting, and somehow worried expression barely registering on Ichigo's muddled senses. "Something's had you in a funk for _weeks_, and if someone didn't pin you down and drag it out of you now, it'd only end up exploding within a matter of weeks. Now spill it, or _I'll make you_."

Ichigo sighed shallowly; physically unable to do so any deeper due to the short captain sitting on his diaphragm. "I know if I tell you it's nothing, you're the only person brave enough to actually sock me one for it." Toshiro just growled in response, letting Ichigo know that he wasn't about to let the topic shift back to him when the ginger obviously had some serious explaining to do.

"Orihime stopped by the other day," he said, letting his head lay back against the floor and roll to one side for the sake of not having to look at the snowy Captain on top of him. "She asked me to see her."

He saw Toshiro's snowy brows kick up out of the corner of his eyes. "I don't see anything wrong with seeing her while she's in town."

Ichigo sighed again, scrubbing a hand over his face. "No, Toshiro, I mean, _see_ her. She asked me if I'd be willing to _date her_."

The momentary silence panicked the Substitute, before he felt one of Toshiro's cool hands grab his hair and force them to look at one another. Surprisingly, his expression was gentle, and understanding.

"Ichigo, I'm not here to reprimand you for your thoughts." Ichigo blinked slowly, amazed that he still had a head.

"I'm not here to keep you from your opportunities, or from a life you deserve to live. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that I can't prevent people from doing anything they decide they want to do. I can't keep Matsumoto from drinking, I can't keep Captain Soi Fon from being obsessed with Yoruichi, and I can't keep Kurotsuchi from being a creepy bastard. So I'm not going to tell you that you can't or shouldn't do something if you've decided to do it."

Ichigo was still left gaping, his mouth open. "The point is, Ichigo, I'm not a fair-weather _anything_. Friend, compatriot, warrior; whatever I am to you. I don't care if you're straight, bi-curious, homosexual, or Martian. Taken, or available, I'll be here dragging answers out of your skin whenever you get depressed regardless of whether or not you answer Ms. Inoue with a "yes" or a "no". Do I make myself clear?"

There was no hesitation in the young Captain's words, and Ichigo was stunned for a moment that, beyond that fact, there was no bitterness, no betrayal, no hurt behind those words at all. They were honest; a genuine guarantee of something that Ichigo couldn't have paid the world's weight in gold to buy.

"Toshiro," Ichigo started, pushing himself into a sitting position, forcing Toshiro to shimmy back until the other was sitting in his lap as he crossed his legs into an Indian style on the floor, "I wasn't keeping this from you because I was considering it. I was keeping it from you because I was afraid of how you would react."

Toshiro rolled his eyes, glancing up at Ichigo with an amused expression. "Have I disarmed your fears, then?"

"Y-yeah," he said. "It's just… you're my world, Toshiro. This life or the next, or ten lifetimes from now. _You're_ my princess, and I wouldn't even _look_ at anyone else the same way I look at you."

Toshiro smiled gently. "I know," he said. "That's why I wasn't worried to begin with."

**7: Nibble**

"Come on, Toshiro," Ichigo said, trying in vain to rouse his slumbering husband. He'd poked, prodded, shoved, annoyed, and cajoled as best he could, but nothing of substance seemed to have been wrought from his efforts. He'd thought at first the Toshiro was just bluffing, and that he was just pretending (quite well) to be still asleep. But throughout his endeavors, he'd been almost convinced into thinking otherwise.

But one last effort came to him in that last second before defeat, and he leaned down, nipping oh so gently the light, sensitive skin just beneath Toshiro's jaw. Within a few seconds the man below him responded, and Ichigo smirked in triumph against Toshiro's neck.

"Okay, 'Shiro, the jig is up, you're blushing; I know you're awake."

**8: Possessive**

If there was ever one thing that Ichigo was never allowed to have access to throughout their years together, it was Toshiro's ideas. Not in the sense that he had any evil thoughts that he just _had_ to keep hidden from Ichigo, but there were some things that he was protective of when it came to his own genius. But once, after having greatly worried his spouse by burning an entire notebook of his ideas, Toshiro explained that it wasn't because he was possessive of them.

Rather, it was because he was paranoid of harming anyone should they be anywhere but his head that he kept them to himself. His defining person to protect from his own thoughts of course being his spouse, he'd also explained.

**9: Formal**

Ichigo wrapped his arms up over Toshiro's shoulders, snaking them around his neck and bringing them into a very close embrace. Toshiro sighed against his admittedly taller shoulder, letting his hands settle on Ichigo's torso.

"Thank you, Toshiro," he whispered, an uncontainable smile curling at his lips oh so gently. His heart was alight with warmth, but there was a peace that had settled about his mind that tempered that heat down to a lingering, licking, tickling delight.

"For what, Ichigo?"

Ichigo merely tightened his grip. "For letting me be one of the few people you've chosen to not be formal with." The smaller man said nothing, instead just resting his cheek on Ichigo's collarbones and letting out what Ichigo would have sworn to God was a contented sigh.

**10: Birthday**

Toshiro was drowning in the loose sweatshirt that Ichigo had allowed him to borrow, his knees tucked up to his chest and his arms lazily draped over them as they watched the waning July day fade behind the glowing horizon. The lightweight shorts he wore drifted up around his narrow thighs, the summer wind sneaking through the open window rustling them gently as he sat. Ichigo sat next to him on the bed, sprawled out save for his torso, which was only halfway supported up by his elbows.

Ichigo didn't notice that Toshiro had kissed his cheek until he saw the other's face retreating away. He didn't go all that far; just back to where he had been sitting before, but Ichigo grabbed his hand anyway. He sat up all the way, following after the smaller man as their eyes, dyed flaming gradients of wild pigment by the dying sun, met.

"What was that for?" he asked, tilting his head. Toshiro didn't seem upset about anything, just calm as that sweet little smile curled his lips.

"Happy Birthday," he said, and Ichigo started; realizing what exactly it was he'd been forgetting all day. But then he smiled too, leaning in until their noses brushed, unable to help the goosebumps dancing up his neck.

"Mind if I ask for an encore?" he asked, gingerly gauging Toshiro's veiled expression.

"Considering how old you are," Toshiro said, a playful little gleam dancing across his discolored eyes, "I'd say could get away with several hundred."

**11: 2 AM**

Ichigo didn't have the guts to tell him. He didn't have the guts to do a lot of things that he would have liked to, but he found he couldn't bring himself to, not knowing what the outcome or response would be like.

Nor did he realize just how sanctioned his relationship was until he got a call from Chad of all people, at two o clock in the morning as he stood up pacing over his own indecision.

"He's just like you," was all he'd said at first, thus all but forcing Ichigo to ask what he meant. "You both fight to protect; and regardless of the outcome, you always fight to win."

Ichigo had still been confused, up until Chad's parting words.

"Go get him, Ichigo."

**12: Incense**

Anger was something that Ichigo often found got away with him. He could rarely keep track of things that had angered him, or trace where they had originated from. Most things "just pissed him off", and that was all there was to it. Why they pissed him off, or what experiences drove him to hate things rarely mattered. But in some very specific instances, that haze of "just pissed off" burned away with a ferocious clarity, and he would be left painfully aware of what exactly incensed him so badly.

And he had to admit, having a young, wounded, obstinate Captain flat-faced refuse his help did piss him off quite a bit. But it wasn't because he thought the child was being stupid, or because he was being a brat. No, Ichigo may have said that, but that was probably about as far from the truth as he could have strayed. No, he knew what made him angry about watching the younger man bleed, what made him angry about having to watch his small back turn away from him and carry the crushing weight of the world.

It pissed him off because it was like watching himself; like looking in the mirror of days of years in the past. He _hated_ having to watch Toshiro Hitsugaya walk down the same exact path that he had, he _hated_ not being able to get through to the younger man. But more than anything, he was enraged by the fact that his biggest hurdle was the fact that the younger man simply refused to let him in. And that, in the end, unless Ichigo could find a way in, Toshiro's own obstinacy and misguided sense of protectiveness and self preservation would lead to his early death at the hands of someone not worthy of having defeated him.

**13: Godmother**

Ichigo sat for a long time just staring at the little bundle in his arms. The little girl lay swathed in the fluffiest damn blanket he'd ever seen, one of her miraculously tiny hands holding onto the finger he kept brushing her face with. She was sleeping, quite peacefully after making such a loud entrance into their world. He smiled down at her, glancing over to where Toshiro was also unsurprisingly sleeping. Or, rather, was more than unsurprisingly passed out on the hospital bed in the 4th Division where he lay. There were dark rings under his closed eyes, and he was breathing deeply in the sheets of exhausted sleep. But there was a warm glow about him, and Ichigo knew he was resting peacefully knowing the night's monumental accomplishment had been completed successfully.

"You've both done very well," a soft voice intoned over his shoulder, and Ichigo glanced back at the Captain of the 4th Division herself, who was smiling down at all of them with what was probably the most genuinely _happy_ expression Ichigo had ever seen on her face. He smiled back just as openly, more than willing to express his undying gratitude towards her and all that she'd done for them over the course of Toshiro's pregnancy.

"Thank you, Captain Unohana," he said, turning to face her a bit more, still genially cradling his daughter in his arms. "I can't imagine doing any of this without you. Both Toshiro and I owe you a huge debt of gratitude."

Something in her gentle smile changed, taking on an almost ominous humor. "There's really no need for such praises," she insisted, but the tilt in her voice alluded only gingerly to Ichigo that she did have something else in mind as she spoke. "But there is something you could do that I would greatly appreciate."

Quite inexplicably, there was a knot in Ichigo's throat, and he swallowed hard, suddenly feeling more afraid than he had in decades. And yet, for the life of him, he couldn't pin down exactly what Unohana had said that had scared him so apparently shitless. "And what's that, Captain Unohana?" he asked meekly, fearful of showing her any disrespect while she appeared to be in such a state.

"I would be greatly honored if I were to be named as the godmother of the child," she said, her kindly eyes not missing a grain of their warmth, and yet chilling him to the bone with an icily veiled threat that may not have been a threat but might as well have been a threat because he would be damned if he didn't feel like she would stab him if he said no.

"O-of course," he said, feigning a smile as he felt the blood rush in fear out of his face. "No problem."

"Very good, Mr. Kurosaki, thank you for the honors," the woman continued, before bowing out of the room to leave Ichigo to surely clean up the remains of his guts that had probably spilled out over the floor. Had it been _anyone _else, the exchange would probably have been much less frightening. But as it stood, he was glad to still have arms with which to hold his new baby. He looked down at her, as she slept soundly on in his arms. He chuckled almost humorlessly to himself, stroking her little hand.

"God, I hope you're as scary as she is when you grow up," he whispered to her, kissing her forehead. "That way you'll scare off any boys that I might have to give you to.

* * *

-I know most of you are probably going, "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" and all that good stuff, but the fact is that I was on winter break, and strangely enough, when I have time to write, I have no motivation to. I need to be working, be productive to have the mojo to write. Now it's back, thankfully, now that I'm in school again. So I will be updating more often now that I've gotten that horrible three weeks of unproductive vacation out of my system. I hope that I haven't left all of you hopeless; I promise I would never leave these unfinished. Again, thanks to Corisanna for donating these, and if you have any ideas or requests, feel free to shoot them my way. Peace out, biffles~

8-90s love,

crypto


	14. Set 14: Provided by Kiwikiwikii

-I really, seriously just about melted myself with this set of drabbles. Kiwi-kiwi-kii, this is probably one of the most sappy, smut-ridden things that I've done. But it's so DAMN CUTE! I had a lot of help for inspiration for this from my friends, so I owe them a lot for helping me out. Because, let's just face facts; I'm an absolute retard when it comes to romantic traditions and or things. So I had to recruit two other helpers in order to get these done. Go me! Anyway, more info on the bottom… maybe. This set is pretty self explanatory.

* * *

**1: Old**

"Hey! Old Man Yamamoto!"

The old man turned, about to growl something about the improper use of his name before realizing it was futile, especially in relation to the Captain that had addressed him. Kurosakis were insatiable, after all, so there was little point in wasting the energy.

"Yes, Captain Kurosaki, what can I do for you?"

The younger Captain jogged up, and for a moment Yamamoto felt a pang of vague jealousy at his spryness. But he'd had his days in the sun; so he couldn't hold it against the younger Captain all that much. When Ichigo stopped and stood next to him, he spoke again. "Hey, would you be willing to be Toshiro's "old" thing?"

The Head Captain paused, blinking slowly for a few moments. He knew that the vibrant Captain was intended for the Captain of the 10th Squad; he'd sanctioned the marriage himself before it had been made public. But he had no recollection or clue as to what the younger man meant by saying such a thing. However, he supposed it could do no harm in accepting, whatever the absurd tradition was.

"I suppose," he said. "However, I'd like to know wha-"

"Great!" the fiery man interrupted, his trademark smile bursting over his features. "Would you be willing to be the one to give him away too? We haven't found anybody yet, and I thought you might like to."

Yamamoto blinked again. At least this time he knew about the tradition that was being spoken of. "Yes, I would be honored. But Captain Kurosaki-"

"Awesome!" The young man reached out, smacking him good-naturedly across the shoulder before making to dash off to some other endeavor he apparently needed to attend to. "Thanks Old Man Yamamoto! I'll see you later and let you know when everything's arranged, alright?"

The other Captain didn't even get the chance to get a word in this time before the red head disappeared completely, a probably very purposeful flash step carrying him farther and faster than Yamamoto even cared to think about chasing him at that moment. He sighed to himself, shaking his head.

Children were so strange, these days.

**2: New**

"Oh Captain! My Captain!"

Toshiro felt his irritated tick before he could stop it from coming, but let out a stiff sigh as Matsumoto came skipping into the office. Akira who sat at what was supposed to be the Lieutenant's seat, doing what was supposed to be the Lieutenant's work, just looked up out of the corner of her teal eyes with a vague interest before setting back to her paperwork. Toshiro was thankful, because if the package that Matsumoto had in her hand was any indication, this was about to be a very embarrassing conversation.

"I know you haven't gotten anything "new" yet for your wedding, so I decided to go out and find something for you! I hope it's your size!"

With that she promptly dumped the contents of her package out onto his desk. A boiling rush of blood shot up to his face as his Lieutenant held up and presented exactly what he desperately wanted to un-see. Which, just for the humor of those interested, happened to be a pair of silk lace underwear (if the pathetically small amount of fabric they were made up of could actually be called that) and a frilly, be-flowered garter to match.

With a disgruntled groan he buried his face against the wooden surface of his desk in an attempt to crush his skull against it, only vaguely listening as Matsumoto attempted to explain just _why_ she'd chosen those _particular_ pieces, and _why exactly_, down to the last detail, they would look good on him.

It didn't help that Akira was chuckling into her scarf on the other side of the room.

**3: Borrowed**

For the first time in hundreds of years, Toshiro could actually admit to being girlishly nervous. It wasn't just a fleeting nervousness, or a pensive one. It was an actual, emotional, tremulous hesitation that sat in his stomach, flitting around like ten million butterfly sneezes. But he kept calm, knocking gently on the door to his grandmother's house in Junrinan as if it were any other normal visit. But the joyous fact was that it wasn't just any other normal visit, though telling his grandmother why it wasn't a normal visit was causing him a decent amount of terror.

When she answered the door, her old, age worn face lit up like the spring sun from behind a skiff of cloud. Her eyes twinkled as she greeted him, embracing him in a loving embrace as she always did. For a moment, he was able to forget his nervousness, instead focusing on wrapping his arms around her now much healthier form and smiling like the grandma's boy that he was somewhere deep down. Her experienced hands skimmed along his haori, proudly as they did every time he showed up in his Captain's uniform. But the pride wasn't just in her hands; he could see it in her eyes, in the way she smiled so widely at him that her face could barely contain her joy at his finally being happy and accomplished.

No one could really blame him for being a grandma's boy; with love and affection like that, anyone, even Kenpachi Zaraki would melt into a puddle of sugared butter.

He followed her in as she ushered him through the front door, having to actually slow his stride for once in order to let her keep up with him. Having grown to an actually semi-decent height, he could cross the room in a pair of strides now, rather than the half dozen steps he used to have to take. But he could tell that she was proud of that too; that he'd finally grown into the strong young man that she always knew he would be.

But now, he was a strong young man about to be married, which, in spite of being another matter entirely, was the entire reason he was there.

She sat him down at his usual place before her fire pit, scuttling about in her usual spry way in order to make some tea. His favorite kind, he already knew, because she always saved it for whenever he came. And in spite of having searched through almost the entire Soul Society and a good portion of the World of the Living, he still had not been able to find an even decent substitute for her tea. And he'd let her known that too; which made her just smile genially at him and wink in that wily way she did whenever she was getting away with something, promising that someday she'd share her only secret.

Once the kettle was set over the fire, her busy little body settled down next to his, and one of her hands found its way into his, he knew she was finally ready to talk as they always did whenever he came.

"It's so good to see you, Toshiro," she said, patting the hand that she held so delicately. He knew that she was well aware that his hands were far from fragile; she'd seen him wield his sword more than a fair number of times, and knew just how skilled he was with it. And yet every time she treated him with such great care that it used to almost irk him, but now it just calmed him, knowing that she had never changed in her insatiable urge to care for him. "I wasn't expecting you to visit. To what do I owe the honors?"

He laughed, patting her hand back and smiling down at her warmly. The butterflies were sneezing again, and he truly did have to make a concerted effort to keep his hands from shaking. "A very special occasion, Grandma. One that I've come to share with you."

He knew that her interest had been piqued, as her hand stilled in his. It wasn't a fearful silence, just an excited one, which helped to ease the tension that was knotting between his shoulder blades. "Occasion?" she asked, her voice a quiet whisper of anticipation, her smile still pulling at her face. "What is this occasion?"

"Grandma," he said, still smiling gingerly, "Ichigo has asked me to marry him."

For a moment her quietness took him by surprise. He'd been expecting either indignation or glee. It appeared he'd gotten neither. But when he mustered up the courage to look down at her, he saw that she was still smiling, but that one of her tiny hands was wiping a tear away from her eyes. He leaned down, fearful that he'd caused her some grief, but he could see that her eyes were gleaming not just because of the tears, but with that same unbridled pride and happiness that she always greeted him with.

The hand that had just wiped away her tears reached up and cupped his chin gently. "Oh Toshiro," she whispered, her voice hoarse, and yet so tilted with joy that he didn't know how he could have ever mistaken it for anything else, "I'm so happy for you." She reached up and wrapped her little arms around his neck, pulling his chin down to rest on her shoulder. He let out a sigh of relief, practically sinking into her and feeling so much like the little child that had left her house so many years ago. "I've been waiting for the day to see you smile at someone like you smile at me; and for someone to look at you like I do." Her little hand squeezed his shoulder. "Ichigo is the person who can give you that smile, and who looks at you with as much love as I do."

Toshiro didn't realize that _he_ was crying until he felt her hands brushing the tears away from his face. He'd gone from nervous to shell-shocked in record time, but was too numb to even mentally comment about it. Instead he sat there, gaping like a cod out of water as his grandmother stood up, took the kettle off the fire, and began rummaging around in an attempt to find something.

Sometime during the middle of her rummaging, his mind finally caught back up to him, and he shook his head in an attempt to get his synapses to kick back on. They did, and he gazed after his grandmother, who had wrestled up some manner of box during the time when he'd been catatonic. She brought it over, sitting back down next to him and setting the box down on the floor with great care. She opened it, revealing a box of what was probably some of the most beautiful jewelry and ornaments he had ever seen. He hadn't even known that she had such things in her possession, but it appeared that she did. She sifted through each piece delicately, until she finally seemed to find what she had been looking for all along.

She drew out the little hair pin gently, cradling its shining white gold in her hands for him to look at for a moment. The jewels, alternating hues of blue, carved out of what was probably the most striking aquamarine and sapphire he'd ever seen, formed a lily of all things, very much like the symbol that his squad bore. The tears were back in his eyes as she reached up, gently tucking the pin onto the hair just above his temple, until she released it from her grasp, leaving it to sit almost weightless on his head.

He was tempted to reach up to touch it, but she grasped his hands in her own for a moment, preventing him from doing so. "My husband gave me that, long, long ago," she said, just as quietly as she'd been speaking before. "You are the only one I will ever allow to borrow it." She reached up, letting her hand once more gently grace his face, the pad of her thumb brushing away a tear that threatened to drip from his jaw. "Because only in second to you, it is my most precious gift."

**4: Blue**

"Come on, Toshiro; we have to get you something blue."

"Ichigo, everything I have is blue. My kimono is blue. What I've gotten that's old is blue. What I've gotten that's new is blue. The pin that my grandmother is letting me borrow _is blue_. I repeat, everything is blue."

"No, no. We have to get you something blue just for the sake of it being blue."

"Who the hell made up these stupid rules anyway?"

* * *

- This set made me unhealthily happy. My cohorts and I were howling up a storm in our dorm's basement while I wrote them. But thankfully it's late on a Saturday night, so no one is around to be mad at us. Yeah, you heard me; this is what my group of college gal-pals does on Saturday nights. We stay up and read/write fanfiction while everyone else is out partying. Epic, no? Anyway, another HUGE thanks to Kiwi-kiwi-kii for giving me these lovely prompts. I hope you enjoy the piss out of them dear, because I'm still crying from laughing so hard. Anyway, more prompts biffles, and I'll see you when next an update slithers into your grubby little mitts.

8-90s love,

crypto


	15. Set 15: Provided by Scarlett Foxie

-Well, these turned out a lot longer than I expected! It took me a while to get them posted because I was working on B2B, which took up a lot of my time. Not really; I'm just lying to cover my own ass. Anyway, enjoy these Scarlett Foxie, they were most fun. Again, probably too much fun, but I'm too dazzled by them to care. As always, excuse my horrid editing skills. Meaning I don't edit at all, meaning spelling errors just happen. Anyway, notes on the bottom!

* * *

**1: Push**

He was pushing harder than he had ever pushed in his life. His heart was thundering, beating angrily against his throat as the distant horizon rose up to meet him. With every pounding footstep of the horse beneath him, his goal drew that much closer. The dawn each moment fast approaching as the blackness crushed around he and his steed. But the great auburn mount needed no encouragement to keep pace; it ran of its own sheer want of. All he needed was to give the beast direction, and it would alight him to wherever he chose on legs so impassioned by running that they wouldn't stop lest they need to. That was the heart of his steed; and his own heart as well. They thundered together, in pride, honor, and glory for what was to become an historic meeting.

Never before had the King of the Northern countries descended to meet with them, nor ever before had knowledge even come to them of his son. But with the late King's demise, and the son's rise to power, not unlike his own, they could afford to ignore each other no longer. Especially with the threat of the warring East and West on their heels, North and South could no longer remain ambiguous towards each other.

So, in honor of that accord, the newly appointed King of the Northern countries had arranged a meeting, in the great city that sat between all four regions as their grounds for peace. The city had remained stateless, and without conflict for generations, and so long as it continued to be so, he saw no flaw in meeting the new King halfway.

But his willingness was not without ulterior motive. This new King had spread rumors, surrounding his competence and his flair for individuality; he was his father's son, indeed, but not a hair like his father. He was his own man, small, petulant, but a genius the likes of which the North had not seen in over ten generations. He was, now, their savior, from a future uncertain.

He was fascinated to meet this man, for if he was as coldly spirited as they said, he could make for an interesting ally.

With those thoughts running away with his mind, he urged his steed to press on, wishing the mountains and gullies that lay in their path to fold away and reveal their destination, for anticipation of what lay waiting there when he arrived.

**2: Pull**

He was pulling his steed to a slow trot by his leather reins when he became aware of another rider's arrival at the Royal Housing. He himself was whipped from exhaustion on the four days ride, but his heart was yet thundering from it still. His steed was hopping on gray hoofed feet, still ecstatic from the challenge of the journey. He patted the steed's sweat soaked neck, speaking to him soothingly in an attempt to calm him enough to be comfortable with setting him to the stables.

There was snow in the city, so the new arrival's cloak was not something peculiar in and of itself. However, the design of it was one that did not herald to any style Ichigo had seen from the East, West, or even his own South. It was a deep shade of gray, but when the sharp winter light danced upon it, strange hues of deep green and oceanic blue would appear. The hood was drawn up over the face of the rider, who was yet at the gate to the Royal Grounds, and not close enough for observation.

So, instead, he observed the stately mount that bore the traveler hence. It was a kingly beast, standing hands upon hands upon hands; well taller than his own steed. Its deep brown coat glistened with sweat, the great chest heaving as its feet skipped to a slower pace. Apparently, this steed also was delighted by the journey; though he could tell the creature was not at all perturbed by the chill. Thus, he could only discern one guess as to who the traveler was as their steeds took up slow pace beside one another.

When at last the traveler drew back his hood, the young King was not disappointed. Much to what the rumors had said, the King of the North bore a crown of hair worthy of his lands; pure as the snow on his mountains. But the eyes that watched him with such keenness were a blue the likes of which he had never seen. They were as encompassing as the sea, yet as light and dancing as the tropic tides he loved so much. They were haunting in their sharpness, but not unkind in spite of such intelligence.

"My Lord," Ichigo said, with a bow of his own head and a smile on his face. He glanced up through his own fiery bangs to observe the man's reaction, feeling both of their steeds finally stand to a stop.

The pale eyebrows had risen, and a mirrored smile had also been beckoned to the other's elfin face. The King of the North bowed his head in return. "My Lord," he said, in a voice deep in command, but belying his own slight size. But already, he was intrigued by this man and his actions, more than ever before; for there was one thing that caught his attention from the time that he had ridden in.

There had been an entire wordless exchange that had passed between them upon their arrival, and a deep seated amicability that had settled between them. He knew then that they were of like spirit; and for two Kings, that only ever spelled great fortune and promise.

**3: Twist**

"Come on, boy, you can do better than that!"

"Ow, ow! Third Seat Santiago, please let go! My arm is going numb!"

"Then make me let go you yellow-bellied push-over. I'm pinning you with one damn arm!"

"You only have one arm!"

"Which makes you even _more_ pathetic! Come on, put up some fight!"

"Akira."

"Yes Captain?"

"Please let go of the new recruit. I can't have you making them into pretzels just yet."

"Sorry, sir. I was just testing their tenacity. They're going to need a lot of work."

"Oh my God… someone call Squad 4, I can't move my arm."

"See what I mean?"

"Hmm."

**4: Scold**

"Oh no, I can't be bothered with that. I have no time for that sort of nonsense."

"Oh?" the man said, thrumming his fingers against the café table with a bored expression on his face.

"Yeah. See, I've got a boyfriend waiting at home, and if I'm late one more time, he'll _really_ scold me."

With that, Toshiro leapt up and over the railing behind him, tucking his knees in and rolling up as he made contact with the ground. Bullets hissed past his ears, and he laughed to himself, disappearing into the crowd of people scattering to elude the gunfire that had exploded in the commons.

He should have known better than to accept an invitation to Mombasa.

**5: Ill**

"Ichigo, for the last damn time, stay in bed!" Toshiro barked as his husband clandestinely attempted to sneak down the hallway towards the front door. He'd managed to get fully dressed, which was surprising, considering he'd been bed ridden for days. But now apparently he was hell bent on actually doing some work, which was so hopelessly unheard of that Toshiro was convinced he still wasn't healthy.

Thankfully, however, it was three feet from the front door that Ichigo went tumbling to the floor, apparently taken over by one of the numerous dizzy spells he'd been toiling under for the past week. It sounded like vertigo to Toshiro, but the new recruit that they had consulted in Squad 4 was convinced it was just an ear infection. Well, he'd been right about the ear infection, but now that was gone and Ichigo was still tipsy as a new recruit after their first Christmas party.

Toshiro sighed to himself, walking out into their living room and hauling the larger man up off their floor where he lay groaning, his eyes clamped shut and his face pale as a dead eel. "That's it; I'm going and getting mint oil _today_. Enough of this ear infection nonsense," he grumbled, helping Ichigo into bed as the other man grudgingly crawled back beneath the covers and promptly head under his pillow where it was dark and less likely to make him ill to himself. "Just stay here and be good and I'll come home early, alright?"

Ichigo nodded from beneath his pillow, and Toshiro sighed, leaning down and kissing what little of the man's chin wasn't hidden away. He stroked Ichigo's shoulder gently, promising swift returns and comfort before departing grudgingly. But before he left, a breathy sigh of words had been mumbled from Ichigo's lips, and he'd only barely been able to catch them. "Te amo," he'd whispered, and Toshiro had smiled in spite of himself.

"Te amo etiam ignis caeli," he'd said back, feeling assured that the other would survive until his return.

**6: Too Young**

"_Here come old Flat-Top, he come goovin up slowly, he got Juju eyeball, he one Holy Roller, he got hair down to his knee, got to be a joker he just do what he please_," he sang quietly under his breath, low underneath the veil of his own boredom as he skimmed the reports in his hand.

Toshiro glanced at him out of the corners of his emerald eyes, his icy brows dipping down and up in a show of amusement. "Ichigo, you're too young to be singing the Beatles; they're almost two generations before your time."

The redhead looked over at him, his fiery brows also displaying his amusement openly. "Oh? And what should I be listening to, oh guru of music?"

The white haired man rolled his eyes, knowing that he'd obviously gotten the other off on the wrong tangent for proper paperwork to be getting done. "Maybe something that doesn't hearken back to the days of your Old Man. Or something befitting your mental age of around five," he quipped back, his words light and completely lacing acerbic intention as they left his mouth. However, he didn't realize until after they'd left his tongue that they had not come out quite as innocently as he'd intended.

But, regardless, Ichigo was laughing anyway, apparently hellishly amused by the other's statement. Toshiro himself smiled, and shook his head, enjoying the light laughter as it broke over the dark silence that had threatened to settle about their menial work. If anything, an afternoon with Ichigo in the office was never boring.

**7: Too Old**

"_I jump into my rocket cause I'm ready to blast, I don't know where I'm going but I'm going there fast, tonight there ain't no future and there isn't a past, we'll make it like the first time so it won't be the last_," Toshiro whispered to himself, as he went about their house cleaning one Sunday afternoon. He'd been waiting for Ichigo to arrive home, and had decided to busy himself with something practical. He hadn't heard the other re-enter their house, and so continued to sing absently to himself as he dusted idly.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," Ichigo had quipped from over Toshiro's shoulder, causing the other to turn to face him. "Now who's the one listening to music far beyond their time."

"Pardon me?" Toshiro had asked, one of his hands settling onto his hip. He remembered their discussion earlier in the week about Ichigo singing music that was too old for him, but he couldn't quite get the correlation that Ichigo was making now.

The red headed Captain motioned at him vaguely. "Now you're singing music that's way too young for you. Seriously, Toshiro, shouldn't you be singing Brahms or Wagner or something? I mean, rockabilly? Seriously?" But by the time Ichigo had finished speaking, his serious tone had all but died, instead replaced by light chuckles that, with Toshiro's aid, quickly dissolved into laughter.

"But I do like Brahms and Wagner," Toshiro assured, knocking Ichigo upside the arm with his feather duster, successfully brushing almost the entire sleeve of his shihakusho with dust. "The German Requiem makes me cry every time."

"Ooh," Ichigo said, a smirk on his lips as he brushed off his sleeve, afterwards leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on his husband's cheek. "Sounds like fun."

The shorter man let out a snort, scoffing at his spouse's words. "You're saying you like to see me cry? That's sick," he teased, making to repeat his earlier feather duster abuse. But Ichigo caught his wrist, bringing it up to kiss the knuckles, and the silver ring clasped loyally around his ring finger.

"No," he said, kissing the ring gently. "I like being able to make the tears go away."

**8: Starbucks**

"What the hell is in a grande light caramel macchiato anyway?"

"It is approximately three pumps of sugar free vanilla, with sixteen ounces of steamed nonfat milk poured over it, two shots of espresso poured on top, and a small amount of caramel drizzle to embellish. Why?"

"How the _hell_ did you know that?"

"Would you believe me if I told you your Ticket Counter Attendant told me?"

"WHAT? _She's_ here?"

"_Was_ here. She left as soon as she saw you walk in the door."

"God damn it! I had some questions for that bitch!"

**9: Next Time**

"You know, Ichigo, next time we may not be so lucky."

**10: Doll**

From the time when she was very young, it seemed Mikan had a strange affiliation for sharks. Ichigo could not fathom where the love or interest had come from, but it had been one of the very first words she had learned. Other than "Daden" and "Damen", because she just couldn't quite get "Mum" or "Dad". So, Akira had given her those supplemental words instead, which both Captains agreed were insurmountably cuter. But her third word ever was "sark", which they realized was a very young pronunciation of "shark".

So, for her third birthday, almost the entire Soul Society had come together to help make the little girl a doll. Not a girl, or a baby like other young girls seemed to enjoy, but a small stuffed shark. But, unlike in the World of the Living where fabrics could be purchased at leisure, the Soul Society was a tad different. Great effort went into making threads, weaving silks, and plucking the down for stuffing, and so a great effort was indeed put forth. Akira had assembled the small doll when all the supplies had been gathered, but gathering them had been half the battle.

Byakuya, somehow, had managed to find a soft, almost velvety dark navy material for the top half of the doll. He'd supplied several square yards, promising it was all he had, and imploring them to use it carefully. Then they'd gotten white silk for the belly, delivered to their door by Captain Unohana on behalf of herself and Squad 4. Next had arrived the thread; a gift from Renji and Rukia, who had made a special trip to the Rukon district to find it. And finally, a pair of little blue gem eyes had arrived in the mail from Toshiro's grandmother, and a letter promising they could be used without guilt.

So when the day came, all of the people that had put forth some kind of contribution to the doll were invited to the party. Most of them came without confirming, just because they couldn't stay away from the offer. There had been other small gifts, and their little girl had handled them and the crowd with all the expertise of someone much older than herself.

But when Ichigo and Toshiro presented their little girl, perched on the couch between Gramma and Ba'kya, with her shark, the entire room went silent with anticipation. The second the stuffed shark appeared, the little girl's eyes lit up, her tiny hands reaching out as she babbled her favorite word. The silence broken, the small crowd erupted with delighted chatter as the little girl cuddled her prized gift, petting its felt fins until Byakuya was sure they were going to fall off by the following day.

And even though the smiling faces of the assembled crowd were priceless, none could compare to the smile on that little girl's face, as she unknowingly thanked those who had bestowed her the gift, merely by loving it with all the little heart she had.

And, for all of them, that was more than enough.

**11: Mark the Date**

Ichigo could hear the ticking in his head; every second screaming by like a howl in the wind. His heart was thundering in his chest as his feet connected hard with the pavement he ran on, every fiber in his mixed being taxed to the limit of sanity and physical capability. But that didn't change the fact that he and Toshiro were the only ones in the entire damn city that knew the location of the bomb. Ichigo knew just how to get down there, but Toshiro was the one that knew how to disarm it.

He sprinted around a street corner, hurling himself down a flight of stairs towards the subways. He couldn't descend fast enough; every step painfully slow. The flashing lights of the station shot past him like sparks of epileptic color, as if tempting him to be distracted as he barreled the door beneath the stairs open, diving down into the darkness that was the stairs that led to the old station. The underground tunnels groaned as the pressure of newer trains passing overhead crushed their failing supports, leaving Ichigo's ears ringing and his hair littered with dust that was rocked loose from the ceiling.

He felt it before his mind had time to process what had happened. In a crush of pressure he'd been thrown off his feet, sprawling back onto the pavement yards away as the deafening noise of the explosion reverberated through the tunnel. The compacted noise left him deaf for a moment, his ears ringing in a high-pitched whine as the heat lashed at him, the orange flames retreating back down the tunnel from which they had come as the smoke began to roil in their place. He lay for a moment, the world spinning in and out of focus as he tried to balance himself on his own blindsided body.

But now, he wasn't rushing to disarm the bomb that had erupted over half of downtown Karakura. No, now he was rushing to find what had become of Toshiro, praying that the other man had survived the day they had be ruing for weeks. Because they both knew that, no matter what, something always seemed to get in the way of their anniversary.

**12: Permanent**

There was something numbing about injuries that wouldn't heal. Not just the sensory factor of numb, but the mental, emotional emptiness that came with scars and horrible memories. So Toshiro always found it chilling to look at Akira's empty sleeve. She'd recovered miraculously well, and had gone above and beyond expectation to even have survived the entire ordeal. But her arm, her admittedly dominant arm, had not. But there was always a kind of guilt that putrefied that numbness that Toshiro got whenever he glanced over and realized that the young woman whom had devoted herself and her life in order to save his daughter, would never again have two hands with which to hold her "niece". The damage, however inconsequential to Akira, was permanent, and Toshiro would never forget the debt he owed to her, even if she herself denied the existence of said debt.

**13: School**

Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd been in the middle of such a huge firefight. Hate and malice were thrumming through him at the thought of those sick bastards having the gall to attack the school, but he was too distracted by the worry of getting all of the students evacuated to let himself linger on it for too long. The adults, staff and older students included, were out on the grounds while some of the other students led the evacuation. But, much to his dismay, their two "study abroad" guests had also chosen to come out and fight off the descending firestorm that was consuming the beautiful grounds.

He'd heard them shouting to each other in Japanese, apparently making some kind of strategy as Ichigo had hauled him up off the ground he'd been knocked onto. He grumbled a thanks, glancing out of the corner of his eye as Toshiro made to pop something into his mouth. But the second his teeth closed around whatever it was, there was the ringing shot of a gun and a shot of red splintered onto the smaller man's shirt.

Logan would have been petrified, horrified, disgusted, were it not for the fact that he could _see_ that Toshiro was no longer in that body. He couldn't have described his own shock at seeing the younger man still standing as his body fell, strange black robes billowing about him as a swallowing cold suffocated the area. He could see his own breath billowing out in front of him, rustled by the same wind that caught Toshiro's strange white coat in a dangerous flutter.

He could feel Ichigo dragging him back towards the school, where it seemed all of the other adults and older students were retreating to as well. He couldn't imagine why; especially considering Toshiro's body was still out there. And he knew that Ichigo could see him; standing there as he drew what Logan realized with a heady chill was a gleaming sword.

He could hear the steel singing in his ears as it was drawn, watching with wide eyes now that they'd stopped fleeing as Toshiro pointed the long gleaming blade towards the unyielding sky. The skies suddenly burst with cloud, and he glanced over at Storm to see her as equally flabbergasted as he was. She couldn't see what Toshiro was doing outside of his body, but she could see its effects; all of them could as the temperature plummeted yet again.

Frost crawled across the lawn, and in a roar befitting a dragon Toshiro bellowed out something to the heavens he was calling upon. As if called out by name, a great burst of undulating water and ice burst from the tip of the sword, swooping out in a hellish arc to encase the oncoming forces in a solid wall of jagged ice.

The world held still for a moment, and Logan could only hear his own labored breathing as a foreign pressure weighed down on him. He watched the smaller man settle his sword to a ready stance in his obviously experienced hands, completely ready to take on whatever came next. But he realized, as he watched the glowing, thrumming aura around the younger man flare and spike, that he, of all things, had summoned a _dragon_ from the very pits of heaven to come and implement his will.

And if all of the Captains that Toshiro had mentioned were as strong or stronger than he, then Logan would be damned if he ever thought himself almighty again. For surely those who could call upon heaven itself and tear down walls of reality and existence, then there was no hubris to be found in the lives of men and their petty wars.

So for the first time in many years, Logan admitted to feeling vulnerable, and undeniably human when compared to these beings who so graciously walked this earth with humility and wisdom, with heaven and hell at their fingertips.

**14: I Don't Understand**

A clap of thunder rocked the house, every beam of solid wood creaking as the howling winds shifted outside. The rain lashed against the windowpanes; she knew it did without having to see it beyond the closed curtains. All of her senses were stretched to the maximum, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The night felt like it had been going on forever, and that morning was yet a far off concept of fantasy. Akira took a deep breath, readjusting the bundle of blanket in her lap that was little Mikan into a more shielded position. They were holed up in the Kurosaki house, the entire compound impounded by the Fu that Akira had unleashed in order to protect them.

Her Captain had given her but one order before he'd departed to battle, and she was not going to disobey him. Nor was she about to fail him. But she couldn't help but keep her grip on the young girl in her arms firm, even as she sensed the Tora Fu escort someone to the house. She knew that the Fu would not let in anyone that she had not had contact with before; so it was no stranger. She set the little girl, finally asleep after hours of panicked fear of the storm and the fact that her Mommy and Daddy hadn't come home, down on the chair behind the door, casting a paranoid glance around to make sure the house was still secure. None of the other Fu had alerted her to anything, so she could at least open the door.

When she heard the step of the Tora Fu outside the door, she opened it quietly, her eyes going wide as Captain Kuchiki approached the door. He was drenched to the bone, looking tired and dour as he looked at her with those aged gray eyes. The massive form of the Tora Fu remained close to the door, and even Akira's experienced eyes could only barely catch the glint of its yellow eyes piercing through the darkness, and the faint outline of its inky stripes against its cherry and ivory fur.

"Captain Kuchiki," she addressed stiffly, not opening the door just yet. If he intended to stay, he knew he would have to ask to be let in. If he was just delivering a message, he would deliver it and be on his way.

"Third Seat Santiago," he returned, making no move to approach the door any more than stand under the awning that enclosed the porch from the drenching rain. "I was asked by Captain Hitsugaya to inform you that he and Captain Kurosaki will be spending the evening in the 4th Division for treatment. They are relatively unharmed, but require overnight observation," he explained, his voice professional as always. But she could hear the weariness in it, and nodded slowly, hating how she would have to be the one to explain to Mikan why her Mummy and Daddy weren't home.

"Is it all over?" was all she asked before the Captain left, and he only offered a short nod over his shoulder to affirm her thoughts. With that, he let the Tora Fu escort him off the secure area that Akira had established. She closed the door, leaving the numerous facets of her zanpakuto out. She would leave them to maintain a perimeter until the Captains returned, feeling it safer.

When she closed the door fully, she couldn't help but scowl to herself. They'd all avoided it for so long. It had been avoided for longer than she thought possible, honestly. She had all but known that it would have, should have happened sooner, but was selfishly thankful that it had not. And now it had happened; now, for the first time ever, _both_ of Mikan's parents would be gone all night. She had accepted it when one of them had been unable to come home; so long as she got to see him and so long as the other stayed home all night.

But now, neither of them would be there to comfort her in that way only parents could. It panicked Akira to think of how the little girl would react when she woke to find both parents gone, more than anything else had panicked her in her life.

When she felt a light tug on her shihakusho pant leg, her mind froze. She glanced down at the sad face of her niece, looking up at her with wide uncertain eyes. "Was that Uncle Ba'kya?" she asked quietly, and Akira would have smiled were the situation not so serious. She leaned down, picking the little girl up and sitting her on her lap as she herself sat down on the couch.

"Yes, Mikan," she answered, letting the little girl snuggle into her. "It was."

She felt the little girl's hand ball into a fist against her tummy, nervousness tingeing her already palpable Spiritual Pressure. When the little girl looked back to her, Akira knew that hammer stroke was coming. "Are Mummy and Daddy coming home soon?"

Akira tried to look at the three year old as sternly as she could, but she found she couldn't when that poor little face looked at her so full of hope. She withered, placing two comforting hands on the little girl's shoulders. "No, Mik," she said, "not tonight. They're staying with Grandma for the night. We can go see them first thing in the morning, alright?"

"Why?" the little girl questioned, her little lip quivering as she did her best to resist tears. But they were bubbling up fast; and Akira knew the wrong answer would set them on herself.

"They need her help tonight, Mik. And we can't do anything until morning."

But she knew that there was no consoling the disappointment in the little girl's eyes. But Mikan, rather than throwing a fit, just curled against Akira's shoulder, very much crying, but knowing not to throw a fuss. Akira wrapped her arms around the little girl, letting her cry in the senseless need for her Mommy and Daddy as all two year olds did. She knew that no matter what words she said, they would not make the little girl understand why her parents had to be separated from her.

Every tear that wetted her shoulder only made her heart one seam closer to tearing apart, and she vowed to herself, that day and forever, that she would do _everything_ it took to keep that child from crying, and to keep that child from ever not being able to understand again.

**15: Chef Boyardee**

"This is quite possibly the most deliciously convenient thing I've ever eaten."

"What, you've never had Spaghetti O's before?"

"I thought Spaghetti O's were a Campbell's item."

"You can shut up now."

"You're welcome."

* * *

-Alrighty! I have A LOT of notes for this set, so buckle up for a few more seconds for me. First note: 1 Push and 2 Pull. These two are a completely new idea that I got whilst listening to the Secretariat soundtrack. Thus, inspired by the thought of horses, royalty, and AU, I have created this. So there you have those. Drabble 3 Twist is later explained by 12 Permanent, just in case you were wondering. Oh, drabble 4 Scold! Two notes for this one. First off, if you can tell me who that opening line is quoted from, I will give you an internet cookie. Secondly, I was listening to Hanz Zimmer's score for _Inception_, and "Mombasa" came on, hence the mild inspiration for that. Note for drabble 5 Ill; most doctors do mis-diagnose actual vertigo for an ear infection. Mostly because vertigo does affect the ear, and usually does cause ear infections. However, vertigo actually affects the soft tissue around your eyes, where the infection stays. Most times vertigo goes away after the ear infection is treated, but the infection around the eye is not flushed out, and can come back later on. So, one of the only ways to get rid of it is to rub one of several different kinds of herbal oils around the eye, where they sink in to the skin harmlessly and flush out the infection. Mint is one of the oils that can work, including a few others. So there's your medical fact for the day. Also on 5; they are not speaking Spanish. That's Latin biffles; go translate it and it will make you smile I hope. On drabble 6 Too Young, the song is by the Beatles. Name it and you get another cookie. Drabble 7 Too Old, the first song is by Brian Setzer, name it and I will give you cookie. Look up for yourself and enjoy either Brahms or Wagner, and the music is its own reward. On drabble 8 Starbucks: I DON'T LIE. This is actually what goes into a Starbucks grande caramel macchiato, I swear to you. I worked at a Starbucks for two years, so I would know. I have all of their recipes memorized. FOREVER. On drabble 9 Next Time, it is a prequel to Never from Set 8. Buajaja. I'm staying vague just to bug you. Drabble 10 Doll is pretty self explanatory. Drabble 11 Mark the Date was just something I wrote based on the song Countdown from the Assassin's Creed 2 soundtrack, which is amazing by the way. Drabble 12 Permanent does not relate to drabble 14 I Don't Understand. Those events are isolated. Drabble 13 School is another part of my X-Men series, yadda yadda. Drabble 15 Chef Boyardee comes from my own derpishness in thinking that Spaghetti O's were a Chef Boyardee item. I did the research, and lo and behold; I was wrong. Thus this drabble came about. PHEW! That was a lot of notes for one set of drabbles! Gah. Anyway, thanks yet again to Scarlett Foxie for donating this set; I look forward to hearing from you all again soon. Oh, and xTKx, it looks like it was me who updated next, dear. ;)

8-90s love,

crypto


	16. Set 16: Provided by Stephvamp25

-Alright biffles; I'm back! And just in time for the last ten minutes of Valentine's Day! No, seriously; I'm posting these at ten minutes to midnight my time. I just thought that if you were either swept off your feet by the romance or totally disappointed, your day could be made just a bit sweeter by some plotless fluff. In any case, this set is from a lovely new reviewer, stephvamp25! I'm sorry these took so long; I was informed a few weeks ago that I am going to be absconded with in April and sent to Seattle for SakuraCon. Oh darn, I know. But I also realized then that I wanted to go in some manner of cosplay outfit, and going in my BLEACH one would just be too damn easy. So, I've taken on the massive project of fashioning my own modification of an Assassin's Creed costume. Fun stuff; lots of work. That stacked on top of school on top of life makes for a very busy crypto. So, I will be trying to get drabbles up weekly, more on that on the bottom, and I guarantee B2B will be updated at least monthly, so be sure to be on the lookout for that before the 28th. See you on the bottom for more notes biffles!

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**1: Innocence**

"Akira, calm down," her Captain ordered over the delicate china teacup he held in his hands. He blew a cool breath over the top of the tea, cooling it slightly. He seemed wholeheartedly calm about the entire matter, though how or why she would never, ever be able to understand.

"I don't want to calm down," she grit out from her place on his couch. She was quite literally bristling at the thought of having to stay where she was and not protect the child that was romping around the house with her father. Or, rather, the half of her father that was very much a Hollow, and yet who still seemed bent and totally able to be gentle enough to play with his own progeny.

Toshiro just rolled his eyes, seeming wholeheartedly amused by the fact that Mikan was riding around on her Daddy's shoulders like he was a horsie, pointing to where she wanted him to go and giggling as they romped around. Ogichi seemed to also be enjoying himself inherently, having first wisely asked Toshiro's permission to do anything around the child lest the snowy dragon accidentally murder both of them on instinct. "Just drink your tea, Akira. Then you're welcome to leave; I don't want to have to turn you over to Captain Unohana for being overworked."

Obviously, Akira on the other hand was still fighting that instinct rather avidly as she clung to her teacup like it was a lifeline. The simple fact was that she still wasn't used to the other half of the jovial Captain, much less used to the fact that it wanted to interact with the little girl. "Yessir," she growled, taking another sip along with a deep breath in through her nose.

At that point, the vagabond tag team of Hollow and baby returned to the living room where the more peaceable two were seated. The Hollow, surprisingly, handed over the cooing baby girl quite willingly, apparently sensing that Toshiro was about to inform him of his expired time with her. But he did so with a smirk on his uncharacteristically white face, glancing over at Akira with a scandalous look on its face.

"_**Don't look so glum**_," his distorted voice teased, his grin taking on a lecherous little curl. "_**You want me to play with you next**_?"

"Sir?" Akira growled, setting her teacup down as calmly as she could as the Hollow looked on in confusion between them.

"Now you can beat him up, Akira. Just remember it's Ichigo's body; I can't have you breaking him completely," Toshiro responded naturally, brushing a strand of orange hair away from his little girl's face as she pointed and laughed as Akira sprung up from the couch, fists ready, and promptly chased the Hollow around the house through which he had been just gallivanting.

Good innocent fun could only be allowed to go so far in the presence of a child, after all.

**2: Eternity**

Ichigo pressed their foreheads together, warm meeting cool as he tried to recapture the breath that had been stolen from him. If that was what kissing really meant, he would never belittle it again.

"Ichigo," he felt Toshiro breathe out against his lips, and then felt the shift of the other's body beneath his.

He wrapped his arm around the pale shoulders, keeping their faces close and their bodies closer as he clung desperately to the fading fire that still danced through his fingers.

"Just an eternity more," he whispered back, leaning back down for another dose of the heaven he'd captured in his open hands.

**3: Pressure**

"It's so… _melodic_," he said, his voice filled with wonder as his fingers danced along the ivory keys of the Fazioli piano. With only the slightest undulating pressure on the tips of his fingers, he could draw forth this beautiful swirl of thrumming sound. No… this wasn't just sound. This instrument, it was _music_. The wood, the strings, the keys, the pedals, every facet and screw was built for the sake of things beautiful and aurally connective. Its music struck deeper than his extensive vocabulary had words for, and brought out something in his body he couldn't control.

He only realized that he'd been letting the music completely take him when he felt the faintest pressure of lips against his chin. He opened his eyes, feeling his fingers actually still. He hadn't realized they'd even been moving. All he'd known was that there was music playing for his ears what he heard in his head, and it was the intoxicating joy of pure composition and creation that made every fiber of his body tingle with life.

"Play me a song, maestro," Ichigo whispered in his ears. So he closed his eyes as the pressure of another body settled by his side, and let his hands take to the keys once more, uncaring of where they took him, so long as they appeased his audience's, and his own thirsty ears.

**4: Nimble**

"Do you really think you can get through there?" Ichigo asked uncertainly, looking through the mesh of iron supports and bars skeptically. He knew he himself was far too large to fit those gaps, but was doubting even Toshiro's slight frame could fit through all of them without trouble.

"Watch me."

So, he did. With quite a bit of fascination, he would add, seeing as Toshiro then proceeded to not only squeeze himself through spaces that would have been a claustrophobe's worst nightmare, but also managed to turn himself at so many odd angles in order to fit himself through that he would have given any professional contortionist a run for their money. When he reached the other side of the maze of steel, he looked back at his companion.

"Now wait here; I'll come back around and get you out from the other side."

"Good. Because there's no way in hell I'm half as nimble as you are, Toshiro."

"I know."

**5: Joy**

"Come on, boy, cut me!" Kenpachi howled as he tore across the battlefield towards Toshiro. Ichigo would have been much more concerned for the other man's safety if he wasn't under the strict knowledge that this was only practice. And even though he knew the term "practice" in reference to Kenpachi was something entirely inhuman, he also knew that Toshiro was a good bit smarter than Kenpachi. And even if Kenpachi himself was by no means a dull bulb, it would only make the challenge more interesting for Toshiro to try and outsmart him.

Hence why he was currently quite literally running circles around Kenpachi in an attempt to make the other angry. It was working, and from what Ichigo could see from his position next to Captain Ukitake, who had made a picnic event out of the entire ordeal, Toshiro was having a ball. He could also tell that he had no intention of touching Kenpachi, and the fact that seemed to drive the larger Captain up the wall only served to make his amusement all the more joyous, for having so quickly and subtly worked past Kenpachi's exterior of manic calm.

**6: Faith**

"Give it up, kid. He's not out there. You're over a barrel and you know it," the man's gruff voice intoned humorlessly. Toshiro only cast him a furtive glance over his shoulder, before looking back out over the sea that was slowly fading into the flaming colored fog of the day's end. He took in one breath of the ocean's sharp brine, before looking back at the faithless schooner's captain. The shadow of the vaulting bridge passed over them as they trundled along beneath it, remaining swathed in darkness as the sun gave up its own hopes of fading glory.

"Yes he is."

He heard the unsavory snort without having to watch the other man's face contort in an unattractive expression. The chuffing engine quieted as they slunk into the bay, a haunting wind whistling up along the shore as they came to the dock. "You're just begging for the bitter end," the old man growled, hauling himself off and threshing his boat to the dock as Toshiro got off.

"No," he replied sternly, making the seaman look up at him with curiosity in his dingy eyes. A flicker of recognition passed through them, and an understanding passed between them for a split second. The strength of a Captain settled the unsteady ground between them, and Toshiro knew the man would doubt him no more. But that did not mean he was not going to at least explain himself.

"I'm living by faith. Don't let the sea or the world make you forget how to do that, Captain, or they will consume you," he advised, slinging his bag over his shoulder before walking down the dock slowly. He felt the old wood sway beneath his feet as his weight rocked it against the waves already rolling against the floating supports. But the sensation was strangely calming; it was about the only thing in the situation that was.

"It's between the devil and the deep blue sea for you, isn't it, boy?" he heard the ship captain call, and he turned for a moment, gauging the other man's almost pitying expression now. It was so strange, so see that worried twinkling in the aged eyes, but then, Toshiro supposed, that humans always had that surprising capability; to care about those whom they choose to on a whim, with only their own rationale needed to support it.

"By and large," he replied back shortly, and he saw the scruffy old man smile, before the two parted ways at last. Or at least Toshiro thought, the ship's captain called out to him one more time.

"Oi!" he'd called, and just after Toshiro had turned, a small leather pouch of coins had sailed through the air into his outstretched hands. The white haired man looked back, puzzled at the man's sudden show of kindness. "Can't leave you all standing when you're tryin' ta run the gauntlet, can I? Go on, boy, take 'em hand over fist," he said, and Toshiro smiled back this time, saluting to the man before trotting off at a hopeful pace.

As it seemed, having faith, giving faith, and receiving faith, wall came together like the fates when for a cause they favored.

**7: Tattoo**

"Ichigo, technically I would have to check "yes" because I do have a tattoo."

"Toshiro, first of all, there's no way they're going to see it. They're examining your head for a concussion because our bus wrecked; not your back for skin cancer. Second of all, if they do find it, I'm going to kill them for taking your shirt off."

"Glad to know I've got you looking out for my health."

"Always."

**8: Breathless**

"I think you have finally managed to scare the shit out of my inner Hollow, Toshiro," Ichigo said, his voice breathy as he lay propped on one elbow on their bed. His pupils were dilated, and Toshio could practically hear his heart thundering in his chest. He himself blinked groggily, not able to quite follow how he could have done that while very much asleep.

"What?" he'd mumbled unintelligently, reaching up to rub the sleep away from his eyes.

But before his hand could even get to his own face, Ichigo's shaking one had snatched it away, cradling it as he kissed the knuckles almost in an attempt to calm himself more than Toshiro. "I don't know what he wanted to do," Ichigo admitted, closing his eyes as if still fighting off the nightmare. "But he wanted to get into my body. Bad. But…"

Now at least intrigued enough to be marginally cognizant, Toshiro looked up at him curiously, brushing his thumb over the back of Ichigo's hand as the other's breathing remained shallow and rather panicked. "But what, Ichigo?" he asked gently, hoping to soothe the other a bit. Obviously Ogichi had been in control of Ichigo's body when he'd been frightened, leaving Ichigo to stave off the lingering effects of that fear.

"But _Hyorinmaru_ came in and scared him away before he could do anything," Ichigo continued, opening his eyes to look down at Toshiro thankfully. The small Captain felt the dragon's pleased rumble deep within the recesses of his mind, and he smiled back gently. "Thank you, Toshiro."

**9: Fear**

"I don't understand, Captain Kurosaki," one of his lower ranking seated officers admitted to him one day. The fiery Captain had looked up from his preliminary report across the office where the young man stood wavering, apparently uncertain of the words he was about to speak. "How you could have had the courage to ever even approach Captain Hitsugaya… let alone romance him."

Ichigo would have been much more offended by the matter if the young man didn't sound so desperately lost. He was young; and full of potential. But he was just as full of uncertainty and fear over himself and his mistakes as any person that age was. He had merely smiled gently, knowing how frightened he would have been at the prospect himself had he not been centuries beyond it.

"Let me give you some advice," he said, and the young man stood in rapt attention as the elder Soul Reaper rested his elbows against his desk. "Don't look at someone you're interested in as a key to romance, or to salvation. Don't walk in with ulterior motives, or rush them into decisions."

The young man seemed not to understand, so Ichigo leaned back in his chair, trying to think of a way to rephrase his true sentiments.

"Treat them like people," he said, keeping his auburn eyes on the deep green ones that stared back at him. "Be their friend; understand that they are human like the rest of us. They're not treasures to be hoarded, they're not messiahs to be worshipped, they're people looking for companionship, just like you. And only if that companionship spreads beyond something you can define should you start to think about love or romance."

He chuckled ruefully to himself, and the younger officer seemed surprised. "That's how I even got to know Toshiro in the first place, was when I realized he was as human, and as hurt as I was. That's when I stopped being afraid of him… and also myself."

The young man seemed calmed, somewhat, though still uncertain. Ichigo knew he couldn't really define it for the young man; not when he had yet to experience it for himself. "Just don't be afraid. Humanity isn't as scary as you might think."

"If anything, it's the most rewarding thing in your life when you find it in the right person."

**10: Protection**

"Look, I know you two have explained this before. But what the hell was that out there?" Logan growled at the two as they secluded themselves into a corner of the massive system of bunkers beneath the school. For now they were keeping the entire student population down there; having already planned on moving them back out tomorrow into the building again. But for now they were re-fortifying their outer defenses, and making sure the last of their opponents had been removed from the grounds.

Which wasn't too difficult, considering almost all entrances and exits into the school were blocked with towering walls of ice, and the security cameras strewn about the grounds could see every nook and cranny, down to the rabbit's burrow on the north side glen.

He glared over at Toshiro from their seated position on the floor. The young man's fake body, which he was back into now, was garnering a rather nasty bullet wound (admittedly one that would have killed the average person), but the young man seemed not even to notice. "I mean, your sword summoned a fucking dragon made of ice out of the damn sky. You failed to mention _that_ when you explaining the Soul Society to us," he griped, settling himself a little bit. He knew that if he let himself get worked up, Toshiro would just turn his emotions on him and give him a well deserved verbal slap in the face. "Can all the Captains do that?"

The young man's snowy head shook. "No," he said, leaning back against the wall in an attempt to get more comfortable. "Every Soul Reaper in the Soul Society has a unique sword, or zanpakuto. Each sword's abilities are different based on the personality and disposition of their wielder. Thus, no two are alike. So, the Captains are on a comparable level of power to mine, but each of their swords is capable of different things."

The mutant then glanced over at Ichigo rather accusingly. "Then yours fucking fits, doesn't it?" he teased rather petulantly. "That butcher knife matches your ego just right."

The punch to his arm as a response was a pretty damn good one, even he had to admit.

"Shut up," the young Japanese man growled, blushing a bit. "It's big because of how much spiritual pressure I have. And I didn't pick the way it was shaped, so back off!"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. You two are both hellishly strong; that much I _could_ feel. So why is his so much smaller and more refined than yours?" He looked at the two expectantly, but realize that Ichigo actually didn't know the answer. But he was already beginning to get the feeling that Ichigo was one massive glaring exception in whatever rules the Soul Society had.

"Ichigo is a special instance," Toshiro said, voicing Logan's very thoughts almost too coincidentally. "He has had Captain Level spiritual pressure for a long time; and yet is not a Captain himself at this point. However, most trained Captain Class Soul Reapers are capable of controlling their power well enough to keep it from reflecting in the size of their zanpakuto. Otherwise we'd all be walking around with swords as big as sky scrapers, which would be highly inconvenient since there are now over twenty beings with Captain Class power and zanpakuto."

Logan snorted. "So pretty much, yours is a fucking claymore because you haven't got any control, is that what I'm supposed to understand?"

Ichigo just rolled his eyes, obviously not willing to rise to the other man's bait anymore. "No," he said. "It's this big because I want it to be so I can protect the people I care about in whatever way I can. I'm not about to complain about the tool that lets me do that."

Logan wasn't going to contend with him on that one.

**11: Toy**

"I told you, it's the best damn toy you could ever give a kid!"

"But it's so…"

"Hilarious?"

"_Rudimentary_."

"She doesn't think so."

"Ichigo, it's a _cardboard box_."

"I know. What did you want to give her, a xylophone?"

"Not at this age, but… _really,_"

"Really nothing. She loves it, just let her enjoy playing house for a while. Renji's boy won't let anything happen to her."

"Why do you make it sound like we're going somewhere?"

"Because it's yours and my turn to play house for once. She can handle staying at Boopa's for the afternoon."

**12: Ice Box**

"Captain Kurosaki, why are you wearing that?" one of his lower subordinates asked as Ichigo trudged into the office, wrapped from brow to toe in the warmest clothes he could find. Which just so happened to include his might-as-well-be-military-grade parka.

"Because just in case you were wondering, marrying an Ice Wielder and then sleeping together in the middle of winter is not always the most pleasant mix. I'm still trying to get the feeling back into my left leg."

**13: Dawn**

Ichigo often found the smaller King atop the lookout spire, early in the morning when the frost still clung to the flagstaffs and the cries of the eagles rang unhindered in the clear air.

The sun was just peaking over the Northern mountains in the distance, their bald peaks crowned with eons of snow and ice. The clarity of the day was so striking that he could even see storm clouds rolling away from the south and up over those same mountains, soon to shroud the North in even more darkness and mystery.

He took a deep breath, looking to the East across the forests that crowded the way for leagues. The sun's rays had the towering trees aflame with color, the frost on their branches shining like polished gold even from so far away.

"I can only ever seem to find you someplace up high," he commented idly as he stood next to his fellow King on the terrace. The man's cerulean eyes dyed a strange jade by the fiery colors of the morning looked up at him curiously. "Is it mere coincidence, or common behavior for your Northerners?"

The King shrugged, looking back towards what little of his country he could see far off in the distance. "I can't speak for my entire people with my actions," he said. "For certainly they are not all identical to me; nor are most of them even remotely similar."

"So you call yourself odd," Ichigo commented, leaning against the parapet as the smaller man snorted in denial.

"No. I merely state that few others are like myself. Whether they or I are normal is not something I can define based on my perspective alone."

It was Ichigo's turn to roll his eyes. Even as much as he enjoyed the younger man's attention to detail, it was sometimes a fault his apparently ambivalent opinion. Or perhaps it was that he kept his own true thoughts so subtly hidden that Ichigo was simply not adept enough to pin them down. "You say too much and state too little," he commented, though not venomously. He couldn't bring himself to be venomous; not when no one had ever before challenged him quite to the mental degree that this man did. "Is it never simple matters with you?"

"Is it ever just simple matters with Kings?" the younger man returned just as swiftly, leaving Ichigo to chew over his own words for a moment before chuckling.

"Perhaps not," he said, scratching at the back of his neck as the faint warmth of the sun began to dance upon it. "Perhaps it is I who hear too much and understand too little."

The King of the North laughed. "Then you and I are quite a pair, are we not? He who states too little and he who understands too little. Were we not pressed to make accords I would say we would be totally incompatible. And yet here we are, led by circumstances to step beyond that boundary." The small King began to stride away from the edge of the terrace overlooking the courtyard below, headed down the way Ichigo had just come.

The fiery King followed, interested by the other man's words. At last, he gave up on trying to let his own mind analyze them, and grasped the small man by his arm, making him stop there on the terrace for a moment.

"It is not mere circumstance that makes our meeting so palatable," he said, finding that for once he had caught the other man off guard. "And you, for all your words, do state that much as clearly with your eyes as you ever could with your mouth. That much I do understand."

For a long moment they stood in silence, letting the dawn commence around them. In that silence, Ichigo feared his statement would be disproven. And yet, the longer it stretched on, the more he felt that his statement was being proven rather than disproven. So when the younger King at long last smiled slightly, it didn't come as much of a surprise.

"Perhaps you are right, King Kurosaki. For surely the fates would not award a Scarlet Day to those unworthy of it," the young King commented, and as surely as he had stated, the dawn sky, now well past the luminous glow of pre-rising, was painted red in hues of munificent glory. And though Ichigo remembered a vague tale of red skied mornings an ill omen for sailors, that was apparently untrue for the men, and the King of the North, whom now looked upon it with such hope and reverence.

"True enough, King Hitsugaya. Then let us not waste this Scarlet Day on a dawn quickly fading. Let us make use of our alliance, fated or no, to do what we have come here to achieve."

* * *

-Hokay, so I do have some news for all of you that is rather pertinent. As you may refer to on my profile, the titles of the sequel fics to Burn to Black are now posted; meaning it will be a trilogy. I am also here to inform you that the pairing has been chosen according to me for fic 2 which will be the supplemental pairing, based on what I want the plot to be. Sorry to override all your votes; but there are some things that just make more sense. So, that poll will be taken down shortly and replaced with a much more pertinent one. As many of you may have noticed, 200 Days of Our Lives is almost over; I only need 12 more drabbles and this set will be complete. Scary, huh? Well, fear not, because I have several options for you readers out there… But they involve a lot of work on my end, as well as a little work on yours. I have several options for all of you, which will also be posted as the new poll on my profile. See, I came up with an idea… and admittedly crazy idea that took root in my brain and has promptly exploded into this massive plot idea that's been haunting my thoughts for about a week now. (Just how Burn to Black started, and look where that's been taken…) Anyway, I can do one of three things regarding this fic or any further sets of drabbles… One, I can write this new fic I have in mind. Just that fic and Burn to Black; which means I would update each fic monthly. Two, I could not write the new fic and continue on with drabbles like these. Should I do that, I would only do a set of 300 and then a set of 400 and be done. Or, lastly, I could do both; write both fic and drabbles. This means that I would update less often with the drabbles, but you would have more to read possibly. So, please let me know what you think in a review or in the poll, and please feel free to donate those last 12 drabbles so I can finish up 200 Days of Our Lives. Thanks ladies, gents, trolls and fairies, and I will see you for the next chapter of Burn to Black. Oh, and by the way, if you are going to SakuraCon 2011 in Seattle, WA, keep an eye out for me! I will be posting pictures of my costume on my dA (link on my profile) as it comes together. Maybe I'll see you there!

8-90s love,

crypto


	17. Set 17: Provided by Corisanna

-Rabble rabble rabble… I think I'm losing my grasp of my English sanity at the moment. College is wonderful, but majoring and minoring in two different languages is a bit difficult at times. So, I think I should get a permanent sign hanging over my head that just says "Lost in Translation" so people will be patient with me as I cycle through three language's worth of proficient vocabulary. I'm amazed that I can even still remember half of the words in English I know. Perhaps I should consult my old High School English teacher to refresh that old vocabulary… I miss a lot of those words. Like pusillanimous. I love that word. Not loathe, mind you. That would be desultory… Okay, so maybe I don't need as much refreshing as I thought. Thanks to Corisanna for this set; please enjoy them dear! … Rabble, rabble, epic long note on the bottom, rabble, rabble…

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**1: Daffodil**

His fingers skimmed over the silken yellow petals of the flower in his hands. The stem rested lightly against his calloused fingers as he looked down in distracted fascination at the heavenly little daffodil sitting in his palms and against his fingers. It was such a simple thing, bright and forgiving as it celebrated joyously the colors that the sun gave to life's greener half.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Toshiro looked up from the flower for a moment, finding Ichigo looking down at him almost worriedly. He was sitting on the grassy knoll just beside the wall that was his favorite haunt on which to watch the sunset in Karakura. Ichigo stood behind the small rail, looking down at the young Captain as if his behavior would explain his thoughts.

Toshiro merely stood, if only to sit on the railing a bit closer to Ichigo's level. He didn't directly address the question in the other's eyes, instead just offering the small ray of sunshine resting in his grasp to the taller man.

"A flower for your heart."

**2: Epiphany**

Toshiro wasn't exactly a snuggling person. He enjoyed it, in spite of what he may have claimed, Ichigo knew. But he didn't need to cuddle in order to get the "warm fuzzies" as he so disparagingly called them. So Ichigo couldn't help but be surprised when, one night that they spent sitting out on their porch just enjoying the coolth of the evening, that the smaller man suddenly curled up against his side and under his chin, smiling happily as he let a cool sigh fan out against Ichigo's collar.

A bit startled, it took him a moment to put an arm around the other man due to his surprise. But when he did, he craned his neck back so he could look down at the man cuddled up to him without knocking his chin against the other's head.

"What's the cuddle for?" he asked quietly, knowing that the other would not misconstrue his statement and assume that it meant he didn't like it. There couldn't be anything further from the truth, actually, and thankfully he knew Toshiro to be astute enough to know that implicitly.

"Just had an epiphany," the other man mumbled against his collarbone, apparently totally content with not moving from his position. Ichigo wasn't about to jostle him in an attempt to get him to do so. Instead he just continued to look down at the other curiously, until it seemed the silence managed to goad his husband into looking up at him through one lazily squinted eye.

Once the other man was looking at him, he asked, "About what?"

"You got my bottle." Toshiro was still smiling, but in that gentle, loving sort of way that Ichigo only really saw every so often. He treasured that look, and let his fingers brush in long strokes across the man's fairer cheek until his palm cupped the gentle line of his chin. Just from that small statement, he knew what the other had been thinking about, and smiled back just as gently and lovingly as he sang to the other,

"_Woke up this morning, don't believe what I saw: ten billion bottles, washed up on the shore. Seems I'm not alone in being alone, a hundred billion castaways, looking for a home_."

**3: Rough**

Battle, true honest battle, wasn't something that happened every day in the Soul Society. And for decently good reason, as well. If constant battle ravaged the Seireitei, the fact is that because of the Captains' overbearing spiritual pressure, there wouldn't be one left at the end of the day.

But also, honest battle didn't usually end in a whole lot of death in the Soul Society when it did happen. No one since Aizen's time had been capable of catching the Captains off guard, or had been able to even be strong enough to entice a unified force of more than three at a time. But that didn't change that battle was rough; it tired the bystanders out, and most especially the actual combatants.

So after one battle, just one singular one where both he and Ichigo had been chosen to fight, it had come as no surprise that they decided to pass on their Friday tradition in favor of sleeping and recuperating. They did, however, lay with one another for quite a long while until they both fell asleep, ruing how rough they had it when they had it easy, and yet how easy they had it when they had it rough.

**4: Video Game**

"Toshiro, don't even _think_ about it," Ichigo warned, glaring down at the other man as they exited the movie theater. Admittedly, the new _TRON_ movie had been worth seeing. The plot wasn't _Inception_, but it didn't need to be. The visual effects and the fact that Daft Punk and Hans Zimmer had united under one musical score had made it more than worth the price of the ticket. But he could just tell from the faraway look in Toshiro's cerulean eyes that the young man was seriously pondering over the sciences behind what the movie had entailed.

"Too late," was all the other man muttered in reply, as he rubbed his narrow chin thoughtfully. "There's only one thing I find trouble with when it comes to computers, and all of this mystique surrounding them." His voice was strangely serious, and he looked over at Ichigo as if hoping to ask the other for his thoughts.

With that look in his eyes, though, Ichigo couldn't help but totally fall for the bait. "What's that?"

Toshiro resettled his hands into his pockets, looking up at the night sky as it wielded in nocturnes of platinum starlight against the encompassing navy of the distance abreast the planets. "Computers are a reflection of man's own ingenuity," he started quietly, keeping his gaze on the sky. "Regardless of whether or not they surpass him, they are without doubt his unique progeny. Thus, delving into the realm in which they function is comparable to delving into ourselves just as deeply."

It was then that he looked back to Ichigo. "So my question is: which road will man prefer to take? Will he rather delve into the inner workings of himself and his own condition, and forever be trapped within games that he himself designed? Or will we be more willing to take the risk of expanding outwards beyond ourselves into the games of beings and forces more omnipotent than we?"

Ichigo let the smaller man's words sink in for a moment before taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes, shaking his head and settling a hand on the smaller man's moon kissed cheek. "Toshiro," he said, looking down at the other quite seriously.

"You think too damn much."

**5: Heir**

The day she stepped into her father's empty office, it was the day she realized her own importance in the world. With both her father and mother gone, she was now the lone heir to the Kurosaki House, and though they had never before pressured her to do anything that she didn't approve of or didn't want to do, she could now the weight of the end of an entire Royal House resting on her shoulders.

But that didn't change the love her parents had given to her. That didn't change the consideration they had always shown towards her being her own person. So as an adult, worthy of taking responsibility, and ready to do so, she didn't shy away from the task of taking up her father's gauntlet. And she wouldn't shy away from taking up her mother's gauntlet either. She wouldn't allow either of their memories to be soiled by a despondent child.

So she felt no shame in claiming the office for her own, and felt no hesitance in filling it with books that her father, the very previous owner of the office, had gifted to her. But there were also books that were entirely her own. Volumes that were hers alone; an aside from her father that was her. And the same went for the books of her mother's; there were volumes unique to her own tastes that prevented her from having the same calmingly chill effect on the room.

And yet none of the familiarity or hominess she felt in that room once it was her own could compare to the comfort she felt in sliding that white haori over her shoulders the afternoon of her formal appointment to the Captaincy of Squad 5. She doubted that Squad 5 would know what to do with anyone but a Kurosaki around; firebrands all equally fire-headed. And yet her Hitsugaya blood cooled her shoulder, making her a dangerous mix of both that would be more than challenging enough to keep the men on their feet.

For that, more than anything else, was the legacy she had inherited as the heir to the Kurosaki House: the mandate of undying tenacity and grace that would be passed down to any heir she bore.

**6: Neglected**

"Toshiro, this _cannot_ go on," Ichigo said, kissing the other's temple as the man sitting trembling in his bed scrubbed shaking hands over his clammy face. He could feel the other Captain's heart racing under his lips. It was an odd sensation, and were it any other situation than the present, it might have been interesting and even enjoyable. But as it so plainly stood now, that was neither the case nor would it be anytime soon.

"Then I can't stay here, Ichigo," Toshiro said weakly as his whole little body shook from the aftershocks of the dream. If it could even be called a dream. He'd been suffering under whatever they were ever since they'd arrived in Sapporo, though why was totally beyond Ichigo's comprehension. From what Toshiro had told him, the first one had come and gone like any dream; just a little more frightening and more than a little more disturbing.

"I can't stay here," he continued to murmur quietly as Ichigo held him.

Now it seemed they had escalated into full blown night terrors, from which he would awake gasping for breath or weeping numbly. Ichigo was distraught with worry, but Toshiro had refused to say any more than what he already had.

"Why, Toshiro?" he tried to ask as he cradled the other man into his lap, feeling confusion and hurt paint his actions for him as the midnight delirium washed over him from his own interrupted sleep. "Please tell me. Please."

Toshiro only said one thing.

"It was _here_."

**7: Cocoa**

Sometimes, it didn't take a lot to make a good memory. Most times, it took nothing at all, save for a lucky instance and a ridiculous smile. How you got there was one thing, but how it stayed in your heart was another entirely.

Thus, Toshiro always thought fondly of the time that he, Ichigo, and Chad had all gotten snowed into Chad's apartment one winter night on a visit to Karakura for the holidays. The power had been knocked out, leaving them with only so many ways to stay warm and entertained until it came back on. Thankfully Chad had been prepared for that manner of minor emergency, and the three of them had quite successfully sequestered themselves into a floor to ceiling fort of blankets that consumed almost all of the poor man's small apartment living room.

Seeing as Chad had already been in the process of boiling some water when the power had gone out, he still managed to have a good amount of decently piping water on hand. And, circumstances be damned, they weren't going to waste it. But instead of making tea like they had intended, they all unanimously agreed that cocoa was much more fitting for their shared plight.

And, to be frank, the sound of Chad's Mexican cocoa sounded much more appealing than just a plain cup of Earl Gray. Which was saying a lot, considering how much Toshiro himself adored tea. But in the end, it had still been the best decision, seeing as that from there they had proceeded to make a little chorus for themselves in their castle of blankets and pillows.

Ichigo had always commented about how much he liked the fact that Chad still played a classic acoustic guitar, and it was then that Toshiro understood why. It made for a lovely background to their probably horrendous rendition of "_Hey Jude_" around the battery powered lamp that Chad had placed in the center of the fort like a campfire. But thankfully the musician seemed not to mind, and was actually smiling as he and Ichigo shared a duet.

After hours of idle chatter and mellow conversing, they had finally decided to all settle down for the night. Ichigo was already snoring by the time Toshiro had returned from the kitchen, having had the grace and decency to take their mugs to the sink and wash them out so the cocoa wouldn't cake on overnight. He chuckled quietly to himself, glad to be back in the warm confines of the fort, regardless of how much the "cold" had actually bothered him.

Settling back down into his pillow stuffed alcove, Toshiro dove under his own downy blanket, thankful that Chad had an excess of them lying around. He was almost sure by that point that Chad was asleep also, though he wasn't sure because, really, how many people could actually sleep over the sound of Ichigo's cacophonous snoring? With that humorous thought in his head, he had thus let himself surrender to a few hours of sleep before they would rise in the morning and return to normal. But the night of nonsensical, quiet hanging around had been enjoyable, in a way he had never experienced before.

When he woke in the morning, he was apparently the second to do so. Chad was already up and bumping around, Ichigo still snoring lightly as he dozed between the gray haze of waking and sleeping. Toshiro rose, digging out of his blanket and pillows to find the small apartment warm once more. Obviously the power had come back on sometime in the morning, reheating the house to a pleasantly moderate temperature.

When he exited the small fort, left assembled in Chad's living room if only for their humor, he was greeted by a mug of cocoa and a small tin on the table in Chad's small kitchenette waiting for him. He went and seated himself, waiting for Chad to re-emerge. The large man did, offering a quiet good morning which Toshiro returned through a wide yawn.

"That's for you, by the way," the large man had stated, indicating to both the mug of cocoa and the tin next to it. He didn't say much else, just watching out from beneath his mop of hair as Toshiro looked curiously at the contents of the tin sitting in front of him.

Much to his surprise, it was the rest of the Mexican Cocoa that Chad had made for them, and what was currently sitting piping in his mug. He looked up to the Latino, surprised, but pleased by it nonetheless. He wasn't going to deny a gift when Chad obviously had no intention of letting him not keep it. His body language said that well enough. "Thank you," he said earnestly, earning a grunt and a nod from the man, who set back about the kitchen to make breakfast.

In the following silence until Ichigo woke up, Toshiro examined the cocoa carefully. And not just its table of contents or instructions, which were all printed in Spanish, so he couldn't do much with the knowledge anyway. But, rather, he was taking a good long look at the relationship Ichigo had with his friends. His true blue, hell or high water friends. Chad had been one from the beginning, but it had taken Toshiro a long time to get past the initial barrier to get to him. Now that he had gotten past the other man's defenses it seemed, he too was counted amongst the sparing few whom Chad viewed worth treating and protecting.

Eventually, he hoped to return the favor.

**8: Marshmallow**

It really was a pity in Toshiro's eyes that he didn't visit the World of the Living more often. Mostly because it was the only form of leisure he ever got, even if he was still "working" while there. But all he knew was that in the World of the Living, he didn't have an office to sequester himself in, didn't have a Lieutenant to heckle, didn't have paperwork to get buried under.

He had the open air, his sword, and the occasional Hollow to deal with.

Oh darn.

But also, in the World of the Living there were far more opportunities for him to experiment things that he had never before. Which, amongst a great menagerie of things, the idea of improving his cooking skills was indeed listed. So one spring Sunday morning, when he, Ichigo, and Chad had sequestered themselves into Ichigo's apartment, having assembled the previous night for a movie marathon that had lasted well into the morning, he decided to do just that.

He had risen earlier than the rest of them, cracking the kitchen window open to let in some cool, fresh air as the skies drizzled idly outside. There was no wind, so none of the rain blew in the window, which was why Toshiro had opened it in the first place. That, and the place really did need some airing out from the smell of the preposterous amounts of popcorn and deep fried junk food they had made the evening before.

He hadn't been thankful up until that point for Orihime's insistence on getting Ichigo cooking tools, but he couldn't have been happier that she had gotten him that crepe griddle two years back. Ichigo had only used it a couple of times; producing some edible but not phenomenal crepes.

Toshiro was bent on doing better. And so, in the wee hours of the morning, he set to the task himself, sweeping up a storm of sweet smells in the kitchen.

Both of the men that had been sleeping until about halfway through his cooking came out into the kitchen completely led on by their noses. It made Toshiro laugh as both of the larger men slumped over Ichigo's small kitchen island, mumbling almost incoherent things about how good it smelled. He had dished them both up hefty plates of his quite successfully crafted crepes, stuffed with some marshmallow spread he had found in Ichigo's cupboard. He had lightened it up a bit, so it wasn't quite so heavy, but even in its heady state of sweet he was sure that neither of them would have minded that much.

But Chad, who seemed to be awakening just a bit quicker than Ichigo, looked down in surprise at the plate, as if something about it was more befuddling than he expected. Toshiro looked at him, confused. "Do you not like crepes?" he asked, worried that he had made a mistake in assuming that he did. He knew Ichigo would eat anything but Matsumoto and Orihime's cooking if it was on a plate and in front of him, but he should have known that Chad may not work that way.

"No, I love crepes," he assured, scratching the back of his head as if embarrassed as Ichigo nudged him in the ribs with a lecherous little grin on his face. "I just don't know how you knew marshmallow was my favorite."

**9: Punch**

Ichigo had almost forgotten how much it bloody hurt to get a good solid punch to the solar plexus. Not to mention how much it hurt coming from someone who was trained well enough to know how to do it right. He'd known for a while that Toshiro was less proficient at hakuda than the other four points of study for the Soul Reaper ranks. It had probably come as a natural hindrance with his size from so many years of being smaller than average. And though he was more than competent at it when he needed to be, he still wasn't particularly fluent in the movements and motions that really made it useful when things wore down to the wire.

So, having taken karate with Tatsuki for more than enough years to know his head from his ass and his ass from a hole in the wall, Ichigo had taken it upon himself to help Toshiro improve his methods. The beginning of their training had shown a lot of promise; Toshiro was a hellishly fast learner, and improved swiftly. But there were some things that Ichigo could not teach him, seeing as the redhead just didn't know what it was like to have a height or size impediment. So, on some things, Toshiro had been forced to get creative on his own, bringing back to the ring said methods he had cooked up or developed in the mean time.

And, as it turned out, his creativity was more than good enough to outmatch Ichigo. Which, much to his pride's dismay, he was honestly _surprised_ by. The younger man's progress had been staggering, and Ichigo of all people knew his capability for just about anything was impeccable, but when they'd stepped into the ring that day, where Ichigo had promptly and swiftly gotten his ass handed to him, he couldn't help but be amazed.

Mostly because the methods that Toshiro had used were ones that Ichigo had never before seen, nor knew even remotely how to defend himself against. And though his prowess had managed to save him a few strikes to the face, it had not saved him from his eventual defeat laying on the dojo floor by Toshiro's feet as he tried to catch his breath.

"Where the _hell_ did all that come from," he wheezed out, and Toshiro offered a hand down to help the other up. Ichigo took it, knowing that the smaller man wasn't plighting him by offering assistance.

"I went and did some research on some different styles of martial arts and mixed a few," the shorter explained, wiping some imaginary dust off of his training pants. "Sorry if I caught you off guard. And I promise I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Ichigo just snorted, rubbing at the back of his neck as his breath finally began to return. "You could at least warn me next time. Don't we have a pre-standing policy about you warning me when you've researched things?" he asked, looking down at the smaller Captain rather accusingly.

Toshiro laughed lightly. "Indeed we do. I'll keep that in mind for next time."

**10: Kick**

It had been a bad idea to try and catch Toshiro off guard with their witty banter. A very bad idea. It probably would have been a bad idea to try and catch him off guard in the first place, but Ichigo honestly had not done it out of vindictive, prideful hurt. He'd done it to test and see how well these new methods of Toshiro's held up when he was surprised.

As it turned out, Toshiro wasn't surprised all that easily, and his methods held up flawlessly.

"Ichigo you should really try better timing when it comes to your "_subtle"_ attacks," Toshiro advised from his standing perch once more as Ichigo tried to untangle his legs. The hook kick to his ankles had more than sufficed in sending him absolutely crashing to the floor in a discombobulated heap. And, thankfully, by that point Ichigo had gotten the idea that the match was really over. That did not, however, fix his predicament in finding which way was up and which joint was supposed to go where.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," he grumbled into the floor, but couldn't help his grin as Toshiro smiled too.

**11: Empty**

Toshiro always hated being drugged for medical procedures. He despised it, because the drugs had the horrible effect of making his mind feel empty. His thoughts were always traveling at a thousand miles per hour; a constant stream of cognizant and non-cognizant observation and analysis. And the drugs, purposefully meant to numb and calm, robbed him of his ability to do that. And rather than calm him down, it really only ended up worrying him, as much as his limited mind could worry under their effects. So as much as he revered and feared Captain Unohana and her skills, he also hated what it did to him until he was fully healthy and could run from the place as soon as possible.

**12: Full**

Ichigo always hated when Toshiro went under the knife. He knew that Toshiro also hated it when Ichigo went under the knife, but unlike Toshiro, Ichigo did not have a fear of surgery or its effects on his mental status. He'd lived with his father for long enough to understand and accept these things for what they were. And thus he knew that Toshiro didn't have to worry about his fear. Ichigo, on the other hand, knew for a fact that Toshiro hated going under, and thus _always_ worried about the other man's fear. His mind would fill with swirling thoughts and trepidations, until he was sure he would think himself to death. Or be the death of someone else unless his spouse's procedure was finished. Most of the time it was restorative surgery, to close a wound or re set a rib. But regardless of what it was, it did not change the fact that it put Toshiro in a situation that he did not like, and that was not okay by any stretch of the imagination to his husband. Thus, while Ichigo would pace the halls outside, his head would be full of silent prayers for the safety of his husband, until he could see with his own eyes those shining blue eyes he knew so well.

**13: Prompt**

There was a moment of silence after the proclamation had been made, a silent breath's worth of time that stretched on forever before Karin interrupted.

"Just kiss him already!"

Ichigo didn't need more instruction or prompting than that to sweep his newly declared husband up off his light little feet and up into his arms for what would forever be the most passionate kiss of his life.

* * *

- I don't know if you guys are helpful or totally unhelpful at the moment! You pretty much all told me last chapter to do what makes me happy, which gave me a case of the warm fuzzies for like, the entire damn WEEK, but it also set me to a rather big problem when faced with what makes me happy: _writing_. Thus, having come to that indecision, I have decided to just take on the task of working on all 3 of my projects at once! Well… not really at once, I suppose, because they will each go one week at a time. See, in a regular 4 week month, I'll update Burn to Black one week, My Darkness Are You Lonely? another week, and then a set/sets of drabbles during the other weeks. Sound fair? So that way you'll still be getting updates and I'll still be happy. Though, if I followed Ink on Ice's advice and did what made her happy, meaning stop, I'd be making both all of you and me unhappy. So I won't be doing that; sorry Inky. Anyway, I'm not sure when I'll have the 1st chapter of MDAYL up, considering I'm still mapping out the plot because it's so big. I'll do my best to have that charting done by the end of this month, though. So perhaps… first chapter sometime in March? I know: I'll post the first chapter the week of my birthday! Or at least I'll try. Burn to Black will also be updated… probably sometime within the next week or so (hoping to get it done this weekend while I'm home for the long weekend, but that may just not happen). Oh, and: I STILL NEED PROMPTS! Especially now that I'm going to be moving onto my next set of 300 drabbles. You guys are going to have to step up your game if you want me to continue! I can't do it without your contribution! So if you have any hair brained ideas, please hand them over to me! And don't forget to let me know if you want to do a Guest Drabble too! I'd love to see your interpretations of any of the crazy ideas I spew off. Anyway, needless to say I won't be updating until I get that last set of drabbles; because I haven't had any donated. Big incentive, eh? Anyway, enjoy the rest of your week, biffles. Post Valentine's bloating from chocolate overdose and all that jazz. I know I'm still seeing chocolate, though the rosy colored hue of puppy love is only applied to my one true love: Lazuli, my Vaio. He was my Valentine. ^w^

8-90s love,

crypto


	18. Set 18: Provided by xTKx

-I'm starting off this set of drabbles in kind of an off mood, so I hope that over the course of writing them that I'll feel better. Usually writing helps me relieve… befuddled-ness, so it should help out a bit. Maybe after I write a few of this set donated by xTKx I'll be actually able to do all ten billion tons of homework I have to get done this week. Seriously; I have not had a week this busy in a LONG time, but I suppose it was to be expected. College midterms, blegh. Anyway, I obviously didn't get all 200 drabbles done by the end of February like I had liked to, but I will get them done by the end of this week, midterms or no. Then, next week, I will either be working on Chapter 9 of Burn to Black, or the first chapter of my new fic, but I may save that for the last week in March. We will see. Anyway, thanks to those who have been donating prompts; I have loads of them to start off my set of 300, and I'm really looking forward to all of them. Please feel free to continue donating; I do keep track of them all in my little system, and I have PLENTY of slots left. But know that you may have a bit of a wait until they're posted because I have so many. But I promise, I will get to them all at some point!

* * *

**1: One**

"You're the only _one_ for me."

"That was bad. _Really, really bad._"

"It's not as bad as last Easter when I got you that "Some_bunny_ loves you" T-shirt."

"Touché."

**2: Memory**

Toshiro wasn't sure why he could never really sleep in the Kurosaki household in the World of the Living. Hell, he could sleep at Chad's place for Heaven's sake, but not Ichigo's own house? It was almost preposterous. But the fact was that he always felt like it was going to sleep on top of someone's grave; a person whose memory he had no right to defile with pleasantries. Which was probably just as preposterous a thought, but he just couldn't shake it no matter how hard he tried to do so. It hadn't even been spawned out of having done something wrong, or having done anything at all to offend any of the living Kurosakis to have even brought up such a notion. It was just his own want to not… disturb, to not cause undue harm, that brought the restlessness about.

That reason was why he was sitting alone by himself one rainy night in late July, nursing a cup of slowly cooling lemon ginseng tea in the dark along with his exhausted thoughts. He had left the lights off on purpose, in hopes of not bothering anyone by being up at two in the morning.

When the kitchen light was flicked on, he was alerted to the fact that his attempt had been failed.

He clamped his eyes closed, the bright flash of light almost brutal on his nocturnally acclimated vision. He cracked one eye open, searching through the still blinding glare for the figure of the person who had discovered him. Finally his vision cleared, and he was left staring down a surprisingly awake-looking Karin Kurosaki, still clad in pajamas and slippers.

"You're down here again tonight, huh?" she asked, walking across the hardwood floor of the kitchen, her slippers skiffing against the floor with each lazy stride, over to where he sat at their table. She sat down across from him, her eyebrows rising in an amused, yet worried angle. "Can't you even sleep when you're on vacation?"

The presumption caught Toshiro a bit off guard, and he laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Usually I can," he said, looking back up at her calmly. "I suppose I've just got a lot on my mind. I'm sorry if I've woken you for the past few nights."

The black haired young lady rolled her eyes, settling back in her chair as she looked at him keenly from across the table. He knew then that she knew plenty well that he was a bloody liar, and it surprised him how little it took for her to realize. "You may be able to fool your subordinates with that kind of crap, Toshiro, but no Kurosaki under this roof is going to buy it," she said, her tone softening a bit. "Besides, you having a lot on your mind is a standard feature for you; thinking more than you usually do would have to be fatal. But with the way you look right, maybe that's actually plausible."

He chuckled again after a light wince, trying to lighten her serious yet teasing mood. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"You look like Hell, Toshiro. Go to bed."

"Believe me, Karin, going and lying in bed won't solve any of my problems at the moment," he assured, taking a slow swig of his tea. It took on an almost bitter tang now that it was cool. "Only some thinking will, which is what I am down here doing. So you can stop fretting and get back to bed before your father wakes up and we're all in for it."

"What are you thinking about, then?" She was way too smart for his current state of sleeplessness. Or perhaps just too tenacious. But at that point he couldn't tell the difference between her outsmarting him through sheer wiles or amount of available energy any better than he could dig sense out of quantum math.

So, he decided to just be honest and save himself the energy.

"Your mother."

The silence following let him know that statement had thrown a serious curveball at the young lady sitting across from him. She stared at him, wide eyed and opened mouth for a long moment, before he looked away, almost ashamed at having mentioned the topic. Apparently it was still a bit of a sore spot, a taboo for the family, and he should have known better than to tread on that sacred ground.

After that quiet stretched out into silence, and after the thunder had roared its lament outside, Karin spoke again. "What were you thinking about her?" she asked tentatively, her voice genuinely curious rather than melancholic, which surprised Toshiro. He looked back at her, seeing that honest confusion in her eyes that let him know she wasn't hiding emotions from him.

And now he didn't have anything to say. He floundered with his own molasses covered cogs for a moment, willing them to turn and perhaps produce an idea forth, but eventually he gave up and just let the words sitting on his tongue speak for themselves. "I suppose I always get like this whenever I say here," he said, rubbing the pad of his thumb around the rim of his porcelain mug. "I can never seem to sleep, because I feel like I'm intruding somehow. That just by being here I'm pushing myself to fill in a place that I don't belong in, and that no one will ever be able to fill." He shook his head, looking away again because he could barely stand himself for saying such words, let alone be able to take in the look Karin was surely giving him. "I feel like I should just stay outside, and leave the peace in this house as it is, rather than disturbing it."

Much to his surprise, silence didn't have the chance to descend again; it was instead filled with Karin's speaking, and one of her sport-calloused hands on his arm, warm and reassuring.

"Toshiro, no one can ever take away from the peace inside this house," she said, her words sure and slow. "And your presence here only adds to that peace, by bringing so much joy to my brother, and to the rest of us too. Don't you understand, Toshiro? You being here is exactly the future that my mother would have wanted all of us to see. She would have wanted us to bring people we love back into this house, people who share in the peace and add to it when they're here. She would have wanted the memory of this joyous place of safety to live on through those we connect to."

He couldn't not look at her when she was speaking, and the second he looked at her face, her words were what trapped him there, preventing him from looking away again. Now, he was the one staring with wide eyes, trying desperately to hang onto her words.

He had _never_ thought of it that way.

He had to shake his head once she had stopped speaking to keep the tears out of his eyes, and when he looked back at her, his vision was blurred. His throat was tight, but in the kind of way that made one think differently about the reactions the body gave to joy. Karin was smiling, widely; proudly.

"You understand now, don't you, Toshiro?"

He nodded, pulling his arm back and brushing the pad of his thumb against the moistened crook of his eye. She patted him on the shoulder, standing up and waiting for him to do the same. He did, picking up his mug, still with the last swigs of dark tea and tea leaf dust swirling in the bottom. He set it down on the counter, feeling his tire, and the calmness he'd been missing, settle in on him. He would take care of it in the morning.

"You ready to finally go to bed?" she asked, waiting for him at the base of the stairs with her hand perched on the light switch. "Or are you going to stay up all night thinking about what _I_ just said?" she asked teasingly.

"No," he said, "and only if by "going to bed" you mean passing out and staying that way until I can see straight." She laughed, flicking the light off once again as the house plunged into quiet silence, save for the rain pattering against the windows. He bid her a thankful farewell in the hallway, ducking into Ichigo's room quietly and letting the door slip closed behind him as he padded over to the bed.

Ichigo was sprawled across the whole thing, and Toshiro would have laughed if he didn't want to wake the other. Instead he just shook his head to himself, taking a deep breath and sitting down on a clear patch of the edge of the bed. Okay, so perhaps he was going to think, if only for a little while.

Or so he thought, until a warm arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him under the chin of his drowsy boyfriend. This time he did chuckle lightly, knowing that Ichigo was at least semi-cognizant.

"Karin's good with words, huh?" he heard the ginger mumble into his hair. He nodded an affirmative, letting himself be snuggled against. With his head on the pillow and his mind finally relaxed enough for the first time in the five days since they'd arrived, he was seriously seconds away from hibernation. "Don' ever feel like you're unwelcome tho', Toshiro. You might as well be part a' the family now."

"I'll try to remember that from now on," he answered, before finally letting himself sink into the sleeps deep as the oceans, and the dreams overseen by Morpheus himself, finally content with this world, and his own little place in it.

**3: Hair Straighteners**

"Toshiro, are you sure this is safe?"

"Yes, Ichigo, I'm positive. Please stop fretting, you're distracting me."

"But it's… _hot_ isn't it? It could burn her."

"_Dad_, relax! Mom's not gonna burn me!"

"I'm just trying to be cautious!"

"About a hair straightener? _Come on_, Dad."

"Just ignore him, Mik. He's just put out over the fact that at age 18 you finally have a date and want to gussy up. You being so grown up just has him scared."

"'M not scared…."

"You wouldn't be giving your daughter _bear spray_ for her purse if you weren't."

**4: Calendar**

The only real mainstay in Captain Hitsugaya's office was an enormous desk calendar. Admittedly it changed with each passing year, but the fact was that he always had one on his desk. Everything else in the office was subject to change. The books on his shelves went through rotation; volumes coming and going almost as they pleased. The furniture would change also. Admittedly with less frequency than other items, but the fact stood that they got worn down from Matsumoto sleeping on them all the time, and occasionally got broken from her tumbling over them in her frequent drunken stupors.

But the most defining feature about the calendar that was perpetually on Toshiro's desk, was the fact that every day but _one_ was crammed full of his tiny and immaculate handwriting. So it always looked strange, when that month rolled around, to see every other day, just like in every other month, jam-packed with his tiny notes. But that one day, just that one, remained purposefully perfectly clean, clear, and un-harangued by other tasks, duties, or responsibilities.

And, to anyone that didn't know that date, it would seem odd to have such a miscellaneous date held in such obvious reverence. But for those who did know him, it was an easy query, seeing as the only day he consistently took off throughout each passing year was his own anniversary, and that was a more than acceptable date to keep clear on his calendar, considering how big of a deal his partner made out of the event.

**5: Lock**

Toshiro always said it was a moment he couldn't define. Ichigo always said it was a feeling he couldn't define. Between the two of them, the only thing that anyone could ever be sure of about the moment they realized it was that neither of them, in spite of being very intelligent young men, had the words to describe it.

But when Ichigo asked, Toshiro would tell him the only words he did have. And when Toshiro asked, Ichigo would reciprocate, and give the other man the only answer he'd ever been able to think of.

As it turned out, their answers were surprisingly similar. It was the collective feeling of something having coming unlocked; something being opened and let loose, only to be tied down by the enticing thought of something greater and more beautiful. In the same moment that both Ichigo and Toshiro realized the thing between them had grown into the strongest four-letter-word the world had ever known, both of their hearts had come unlocked, and then locked around each other.

**6: Staples**

"Isshin, would you _please_ calm down," Toshiro growled, kneading his temple with a bony knuckle as the eldest living Kurosaki fussed over the gash on his gigai's leg. "I just got clipped on the sidewalk. There's really no need to get so worked up."

"Toshiro, this wound isn't "just a clip". You may need some skin staples," the older man said, sounding serious and scandalized all at once. Though why _he_ would be the one feeling scandalized was beyond Toshiro's reckoning, but that was beyond point or topic at the current time.

With a glance over to Ichigo, who was sitting on the windowsill looking absolutely _green_, Toshiro forgot about his Father in Law's trepidation over the wound that really was probably a lot more minor than it appeared. He frowned sympathetically at the former Substitute's queasy expression, reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm. The redhead's glance snapped down at him in surprise as he returned to reality and away from his probably roiling stomach. Toshiro knew how much Ichigo hated to see him in pain, and this accident was surely no different for him.

"I'll be fine," he assured, smiling weakly at the ginger's questioning leer. "I promise. Wounds heal, scars shrink. It's nothing that can't be fixed."

Ichigo shook his head, leaning down and burying his face in the hair atop Toshiro's snowy head. "Dun care," he said miserably. "Pretty legs like yours don't deserve _skin staples_ of all things." A shudder ran over Ichigo's shoulders, and Toshiro then understood the entire ordeal.

Reaching over, he swatted Isshin upside the head, glowering at him as the man looked on in faux surprise. "Stop scaring him, you sadistic Old Goat," he growled, knowing he'd caught the father red handed in the act of torturing his son when the former Captain laughed, blushing and scratching at the back of his neck bashfully in the same way that Ichigo did.

"Sorry, Toshiro," he said, shrugging as if trying to weave his way out of the accusing glare still simmering in his direction. "I have to pick on him when I can, you know?"

"Regardless," the current Squad 10 Captain said, swatting at him again, his petulant glare remaining, "_now_ is not the appropriate time or place for such things. Just clean me up, put some bandages on, and let us go to lunch already."

**7: Poster**

In spite of being unabashedly fond of his long time friends, Ichigo wasn't the biggest fan of their son. Admittedly Rukia and Renji were wonderful authority figures, and the boy knew his place well enough. But when with those he considered trustworthy, he was sometimes disrespectfully open. Or, perhaps it was only that way to Ichigo, because he couldn't help the fact that the little heathen that his two best friends had named Reno upon his birth was his daughter's best friend.

Thus, he couldn't help but find it frustrating one night at dinner at the Abarai house, after Mikan had departed with Toshiro for a meeting and some late night filing, Reno had made a completely open comment about her.

With a fish rib still between his teeth, he'd muttered, "She's just a poster child, isn't she?"

Thankfully he was old enough to handle a slug over the back of the head from the Squad 5 Captain now. Which he promptly got after the comment, only causing his parents to laugh at his plight. "She is not a poster child!" Ichigo had defended angrily, not willing in any manner to deal with whatever implications that entailed.

"Yeah she is!" the younger Soul Reaper defended, rubbing sorely at his head after having shot his parents a half-assed glare. "She's the poster girl for perfection in the Soul Society, and everyone bloody knows it! That and the camera is just a bit too fond of her."

It was only because Renji caught his hand that Ichigo didn't clap the younger man another one. Renji was laughing good naturedly, even as his son tried to cover up the flinching cower he'd just pulled in reaction to the secondary attack. "Come on, Ichigo, chill out. Reno's just kidding around."

"Besides," Rukia said from across the table, flicking a bored glare at her former Substitute companion, "Mikan has grown into a lovely young lady. You can't run from that fact forever, you know. One of these days you'll have to get used to boys coming looking for her."

Reno shrunk behind his father again as Ichigo sent him a broiling glare, squeaking out a hurried promise. "Not me, not me! We've been friends forever, I wouldn't do that kind of thing! It would be like dating my sister!"

"Fine, just make sure it stays that way," Ichigo grumbled, turning back to his post-dinner coffee. "And she's still _not_ a poster child."

**8: CD**

In spite of having been married for so many years, Ichigo always looked forward to their anniversary. Mostly because, each year without fail, Toshiro would find a way to surprise him with a beautiful gift. Ichigo would have sworn to the fact that after hundreds of anniversaries, the smaller man would have had every right to have run out of ideas. And yet, he hadn't, even on the years when Ichigo found himself totally estranged from any clue as to what to get or even do for his partner. But even on those years, Toshiro would always smile anyway, totally happy with just the time they had together, regardless of whether or not Ichigo actually agreed that it was enough of a gift.

But half the fun with Toshiro's gifts was that, every year, without fail, Toshiro made Ichigo work for them. Not work for them by doing menial tasks or favors, but work for them by making him go through the entire process of finding them based on little clues the man would leave lying about his office, usually in the form of little notes or markers.

This year, it started out with a sticky note stuck to the framed photo he had of them on the ski lift on their honeymoon. The bright yellow little tab of paper read, "Get going, lard ass, you're burning daylight. Life's not a picnic, you know. –Love, Toshiro".

At least by that point Ichigo knew how to pick up on contextual words that Toshiro used whenever he left notes. At first it had been difficult for him to decipher how it was supposed to be a clue, but over the years…decades…centuries, he'd slowly gotten the hang of noting which word was supposed to be accented enough to be considered the clue.

But this year, it seemed, his guessing skills had gotten rusty, because it had literally taken him the entire rest of the day to search out all of the clues (admittedly Toshiro had been more wily this year that in years previous). But in the end, the clues led him back to where he had started; his own office. Which, by this time in the evening, was quiet and empty after the majority of the division had gone home. He growled to himself, cursing Toshiro for making him late to their own customary anniversary dinner.

But the tiny little gift, wrapped in muted paper on his desk, drew him away from his own frustration and back to the prize he had been seeking all along. He was made curious by its shape, considering it looked almost exactly like a CD case. He picked it up gingerly, rocking it in his hands and hearing the familiar plastic clink of a disk inside the case. He pried the brown paper open carefully, not wanting to rip any notes it may have had on the inside. Thankfully there weren't any, but there was text on the front of the CD case.

"I once told you that I couldn't sing.

You discovered otherwise for yourself,

So in trade for that and my ring,

I'll give you a piece myself."

Ichigo stared in wonder, opening the case and staring in at the CD enclosed within, with the name of each song written in Toshiro's sweeping yet immaculate handwriting inscribed on the disc. He couldn't help but clasp a hand over his mouth, recognizing the titles from some of the songs he'd seen in Toshiro's leather bound notebook; songs that he himself had written. He sagged against his desk, smiling a mile wide as he took out the small pamphlet that the front of the case had in it. He glanced over the lyrics, the designs on each page, before his eyes drifted to the sticky note still on the picture on his desk.

But this time, he noted a bit belatedly, the sticky note was different.

"I love you." it read, and Ichigo smiled, reaching over to peel it off and stick it on his treasured CD, only to find that it had another one behind it. He peeled the front one off carefully, laughing out loud when he saw what was written on the one behind it.

"Now hurry up and get home. Dinner is getting cold."

**9: Butter**

The only person in the history of the world that Toshiro knew of that was capable of melting Byakuya Kuchiki's heart just so happened to be his daughter. Every so often they would ask the Kuchiki Clan's Head to babysit her; a task which he never once said no to. The first time they had, both Ichigo and Toshiro had presumed that Byakuya would at least hand their daughter off to some housemaid who knew how to care for children; knowing that he was a busy man with his own division to manage.

But they were both of them proven wrong when the reappeared that evening at the beautiful Kuchiki mansion, only to find Byakuya himself traipsing about the yard with their toddler daughter, still wide awake and giggling as her uncle "chased" her. The two of them had watched, stunned and wholeheartedly amused as the mean old Captain of the 6th stepped forward with a long stride to scoop up and catch the wily little girl with a quietly proclaimed "Gotcha!". The little girl squealed happily in spite of having lost the game, wrapping her arms around her uncle's neck in a hug that almost visibly melted the cold man's heart.

"He's just a puddle of melted butter whenever she's around, isn't he?" Ichigo had quipped to him with a smile, and Toshiro couldn't help but agree, nodding absently as their little girl snuggled herself under the Kuchiki's chin and against his shoulder, leaving him with an armful of cute he was too weak to steel himself against.

**10: Claw**

"What the hell got a hold of you?" Toshiro asked, the towel slung over his own shoulders still damp from the shower he'd just gotten himself buffed from.

Ichigo looked far less pristine than he probably did, covered in several bruises, welts, and a set of scratches just under his jaw. But he had that sweat-sheen complimented afterglow of a productive workout gone right.

"Mutton-chops got me with a cheap shot," he replied, waving off the young Captain's skeptical look and heading towards the bathroom of their shared dorm room. "I'll just wash it off and patch it up and it'll be fine."

Toshiro snorted, tossing down his towel and grabbing the other by the baggy sleeve of his sweatshirt. "You idiot. A little Band-Aid isn't going to fix that; you need stitches. And I'll freeze hell over before I let you try to stitch up your own damn chin." Thus, he hauled the other back into the slowly cooling bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the tub and rooting around for their first aid kit.

"C'mon, Toshiro, I'm not that bad," the larger man pouted a bit, sounding a bit befuddled at the same time. "Besides, I don't see what you're so worried about. A couple of small scars wouldn't kill me."

Toshiro looked back to him with a mildly raised brow. "No, but your face is already a spiraling case; I can't you tote it around any more damaged than it already has."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo asked indignantly, halfway standing at the thought of the jibe being serious.

"Means you're not only a sore loser, but cute when you're angry. And the last thing I want is for a few misplaced scars to mess with _my_ smile," Toshiro answered, calming the other down quicker than even he would have thought possible.

**11: Network**

"Hey, Toshiro, you should get a Facebook sometime."

"Why would I do that?"

"All of the Captains have Divisional computers with access to the internet now, don't they?"

"Yes. How that works exactly I'm not sure, but I suppose that's true."

"Well, if you set up a Facebook, I can keep in contact with you without having to call you everyday."

"I'm not seeing the immediate perks to this plan, Ichigo."

"Essential I can just talk to you more often with less effort."

"Still not seeing the point."

"I want to show you off to all my friends, because they're convinced you don't exist."

"Now that's a little better. But I still don't see why-"

"_Please_?"

"Alright, alright. I'll set one up."

"Uh… no need."

"And why is that?"

"Because I already made one for you."

"Ichigo, I swear to God-"

"You're welcome."

* * *

-I can't tell whether or not I'm pleased with this set yet. Mostly because I've just suffered through a week of hormonal midterms and I'm trying to catch up on my sleep and my ever elusive sanity. Though I don't have high hopes of catching that cheeky bugger anytime soon. Regardless, here you are xTKx, I apologize if they're off kilter; I will try to do better with any sets you donate in the future. I'm hoping to get 200 finished either tonight or tomorrow with my last set, and then forging ahead onto 300. But, first, this next week I will be working on and hopefully posting the first chapter of my new fic, My Darkness Are You Lonely. I'm very excited about it, because it's about the closes thing I'll ever be able to get to a domestic mystery setting (and even then, it's still got ghosts involved, so that whole "non-fantastic" domestic theme I was going for kind of fell through). I really hope that you guys enjoy it. In any case, thanks to those who have donated, for those of you new readers, please feel free to donate; I'm always looking for prompts, and I look forward to seeing all of you soon.

8-90s love,

crypto


	19. Set 19: Provided by Scarlett Foxie

-I know this was probably not meant to be its own standalone drabble, but that's what it turned out to be. And, frankly, I didn't want to split up the whole set that Scarlett Foxie donated, so I just split this idea off onto its own so I could get my even 200 without having to disturb the other list she sent me along with the prompt idea. I hope you enjoy this, dear. I had a blast writing it, mostly because the idea came so fluidly and naturally to me that I couldn't resist writing it.

* * *

**1: Idea**

Toshiro had to take a long time to get used to the fact that Ichigo had died. Everyone had taken a long time to get over the shock, but it was he in particular who had been hit most hard. Mostly because of the budding… _something_ that had begun to blossom between them at the time of Ichigo's untimely death was he left most confused and unsatisfied with the conclusion to the short story that had been their friendship. Especially because at the time of the end, promises of the future were just beginning to sift to the surface, and never being allowed to know where those promises may have gone left Toshiro cold hearted and wanting of something he could not define.

What was most sad was that it took him almost twenty years to even realize any of _that_. He'd been ignoring it for so long, ignoring himself for so long, that he'd almost forgotten why he felt so cold all the time anyway. He'd just gone back to accepting that it was just the way he was; who he was.

But something reminded him that it _wasn't_ the way he was; it wasn't _who_ he was. He didn't used to feel the cold at all; even though he knew he was. He didn't used to feel its biting sting in the most piteous bowls of his stomach, didn't used to shiver at its cold when he went home to an empty apartment at night. But for twenty years, he didn't remember that. It took him realizing that he couldn't remember how it felt to not _feel_ cold to understand that some part of himself was off kilter, and had been for a long time.

So, just a few weeks before his birthday and the inevitable New Year's celebration that Soul Society would end up throwing, he requested of the Head Captain some time off and unto himself. The Head Captain gave it, knowing that the young Captain had not had a day off in over twenty years, nor had he ever asked for anything of the sort in times before. Thus, it could only be assumed that he was in dire need of it, and was thus granted it out of want to not unsettle even more what appeared to be wrong.

Though why Toshiro went to Montana of all places, he would never quite be sure. He knew that staying in Karakura Town would have been the most logical thing to do, seeing as it was still one of the most spiritually dense locations the World of the Living had to offer, but Toshiro had no desire to stay there. His only desire at the time was to go somewhere quiet, cold, and away from as many people as he could manage. Somewhere that he could fly to; somewhere that he could disappear into the snow and into the mountains where he could think unto himself with a completely fresh frame of reference in order to achieve the best perspective about what the hell he'd been avoiding all these years.

So, within a day or two he found himself traipsing up and down the mountain trails in Paradise Valley, Montana, nestled up in one of the small chalets at Chico Hot Springs, enjoying the silence of the mountain and the natural heat of the water almost as much as he was enjoying not having to do paperwork.

But the peace and settled feeling was soiled by the fact that he still spent most of his days sitting on the roof of his little chalet, his butt planted in the snow, thinking about himself and what exactly he'd lost in reference to the feelings for years before and after Ichigo's death he'd made a habit of avoiding.

He would often spend hours watching the lodge below as people trickled in and out as they came and went. He would watch the parents play with their children in the cerulean pool, steaming in billowing coils of humid white air as the night's chill descended about the hills. He would observe the cars that came and went with the day's light, the dogs that wandered and strayed about the grounds searching for a person to play with, the fat, strangely moisture-less flakes that was the product of snow in the desert drift down from the lazily nonsensical sky that erupted with colors in the sharp light of the fading short days.

And yet he was still no closer to understanding himself than he was to understanding why, at some point, each person he watched come and go would die and fade from thought and memory. He was no closer to peace with himself than he was to peace with the fact that Ichigo was still dead, and that Toshiro was still and would forever be without him.

So, after almost five days of his own secluded mental torment from his cabin up the hill, Toshiro gave up and wandered down to the lodge to perhaps squander his time with some kind of friendly soul rather than his own sordid thoughts. He had retrieved a nice piping tea from the small gift shop next to the empty gardens before he strode down the long grounds towards a barn he'd frequently watched from his perch, but had never approached. He was intrigued by it, and so went to investigate to sate his interest until night fell and he went to redeem his dinner reservations in the old lodge's famed restaurant.

And, seeing as he had almost an entire half day until then, he figured the horse-barn would be a good place to start.

He'd read that the horses were kept on the grounds for use in the summer; when they did horse-back rides up the trail twirling up the mountain and into the wilderness beyond. They sounded rather fun to Toshiro, but he understood why they declined doing them in the winter; if anyone got lost or the weather descended, they would be entirely stranded out in the true Montanan wilderness. But at the same time he'd read about the horse-back trail rides, he'd also read about the dog-sled excursions they did in the winter in the stead of the horse expeditions, which explained the vast majority of the dogs wandering around the grounds.

Settling himself next to the old fashioned western style fence that kept the horses in close to their barn, he blew the steam off the top of his tea, not caring particularly if the snow was settling in it. Only a few brave and sturdy horses wandered about outside, most of them wisely staying inside to keep warm. But one, a beautiful bay horse with a fair oval of white crowning his brow almost in the fashion of a third eye, and two white socks on his back feet, was brave enough to withstand the cold. So brave, in fact, that he even seemed able to ignore the settled chill to actually see Toshiro leaning against the fence.

Toshiro remained still as the horse walked over, the creature's massive head bobbing as his loping stride carried him across the frozen mud of the small outside yard. When he was near enough to the fence, Toshiro stood upright, the horse's face reaching over the fence to snort very close to his own as if in greeting. Toshiro chuckled to himself, offering only the back of his hand for the mighty beast to sniff before gently scrubbing a hand along his chin. "I'm sorry I haven't got any sugar or apples to give you," he spoke to the creature mildly. "And something tells me you haven't got a taste for tea."

The horse's ears flicked back, and his front legs settled after a short stamp indicating just what Toshiro had said to be true. He laughed again, combing aside the bangs of the stallion to reveal the eye-like oval.

"I'm amazed he hasn't bitten you yet."

Toshiro glanced over his shoulder at one of the stable boys as he emerged from inside the barn. Toshiro looked at him curiously, before looking back to the horse in front of him, who only looked back with deeply innocent brown eyes. "He seems quite genteel," Toshiro replied, continuing his ministrations to the horse's nose as he scratched it comfortingly. "I can't imagine him biting anyone."

The farm hand snorted, stopping about a yard away and leaning against a fencepost. He was decently tall, and unlike Toshiro was actually able to hook an arm over the top fence rail to lean on. "You must have charmed him somehow; he doesn't like anybody."

Toshiro just shrugged, looking back to the horse still happily accepting his ministrations before looking back to the stable-hand. "What is his name?" he asked, curious for a reason he didn't really know. It just seemed like a steed so strong and gentle was deserving of a name, and for some reason he needed to know it in order to be able to respect him properly.

"Brego," the man replied quietly, adjusting the took on his head as he watched the man and horse in front of him carefully, apparently wholeheartedly expecting the horse to actually bite him.

But Toshiro only smiled, looking back to the horse and reaching up to smooth what mane he could reach on the horse's thick neck. "_Din nama is cynglic,_" he said through his smile, and the horse let out a muffled snort, a quiver rustling the hair of his mane.

The laughter of the stable-boy made him look back and away from his new companion, and the young man was looking at him in unabashed amazement. A look on his particular features that Toshiro couldn't help but find almost strikingly familiar to Ichigo. But he shook it off, instead listening to the words the taller man spoke. "I can't believe you actually said that," he said, his voice breathy with amazement, amusement, and respect. "I never thought that anyone out here would ever get the reference."

Toshiro's smile lingered. "It is a pity that so few reference good literature anymore," he said, leaning against the fence and letting his hand rest for a moment as Brego nuzzled his shoulder. Not in demanding, but more in appreciation. But even after that the horse remained, standing by the fence almost loyally. "I would have a great amount of respect for you if you were the one to name him."

The man laughed, patting Brego's side as the horse had sidled up to stand parallel to the fence. "Yeah, that was me," he said, rubbing a strong hand across the horse's flank in an affectionate circle. "He's only ever liked me up 'till now. And now you fly down out of the clouds and woo him. I'd call it fate if I didn't think there might be some other name for it."

"Sorry if I've absconded with your horse's affections," Toshiro said chuckling. "I promise you can have them back when I leave."

Brego whinnied lowly, apparently not entirely thrilled by that idea.

"Nah," the stable-hand answered with a good-natured smile. "It's nice to see him finally getting along with someone other than me. Maybe you can sweeten him up and convince him to at least put up with other people." Silence settled between them for a moment, Toshiro taking a sip of his tea as the other man's gloved hands continued to smooth the bay's coarse winter coat back to a decent shine.

"Say, what's your name, anyway?"

The question was asked rather suddenly, and for a moment Toshiro caught himself unawares. Now that the young man asked, Toshiro found it surprising that he hadn't commented on his odd appearance. Still being slight and white haired as always, it wouldn't have offended him at all if the young man had. But it intrigued him now because he hadn't. "Toshiro," he answered simply, tilting his head a bit. "And yours?"

"Isaiah," the young man answered strongly, patting the horse on its side before retiring his arm for a moment. "Not gonna tell me your last name 'cause you don't want me to call you "Mister" anything?" he teased, and Toshiro couldn't help but smile; mostly because that was his precise rationale.

"I could assume the same of you," he said, blowing on his tea in spite of the fact that it was only barely steaming anymore. "But yes; I have enough of a title back home. I came to escape it here, so there's little point in feeling the need to be referred to by it."

Isaiah snorted. "You must have a heavy title, then, bub. Most people carry them around like they're brass balls on exhibition. For you to be sick of it must mean a lot of people define you by it," he said, before slowing in his speech and looking at Toshiro seriously. And, for the first time in years, Toshiro realized that he actually felt like he was being _seen_, and that, also for the first time in years, he didn't _feel_ cold. "But… you don't want to be defined by it; you just want to be yourself, huh?"

It took a horse nudging his shoulder for Toshiro to realize that he'd been staring. His vision was a bit blurry, and he scrubbed his face with his free hand for a moment. When he looked back to Isaiah, the young man looked horrified, his bright hazel eyes worried as they sat beneath his furrowed brow. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he said, reaching out a hand as the other scratched at the back of his neck in shame. "I shouldn't have gone assuming anything like that. It was really, _really_ rude."

Toshiro just shook his head, letting out a sigh and reaching out to scratch Brego along his pronounced jaw line. The horse settled there next to him, though his ears were flicked back with apparent ultra-sensory understanding of Toshiro's unease. "It's alright," Toshiro assured after a moment of leaving the poor man wallowing in his guilt, looking back at Isaiah with what was probably a faraway look. "You were quite right to begin with; I suppose it just came as a shock to have someone finally… see that. To see beyond appearances down to what's actually there. It was… refreshing. Thank you."

The stable-hand did not seem comforted, but at least re-settled against his fencepost. "I don't know how much you should be thanking me, but I do know what you mean about people who look past appearances," he said, his tone playful yet the slightest bit bitter as he spoke. It interested Toshiro, drew him back to Earth a bit.

"Do you, now?" Toshiro asked, looking him up and down curiously. "You appear decently normal to me. Save for perhaps a bit more horse hair in your coat than the average person, but, regardless."

Isaiah laughed, reaching up to peel the took off his head. What he revealed was undoubtedly one of the reddest heads of hair that Toshiro had seen in his life. It was an almost deep, fiery red, were it not for the absolutely glowing sheen of orange that seemed to consume it from the roots up. "You and I have got the same hair issues," he said with a wink before refitting his beanie. "Though I must admit, yours fits you."

"As does yours," Toshiro assured with all confidence and a light laugh. Isaiah gave him a rather confounded look, and Toshiro couldn't help but elaborate. "I once had a friend who had hair just as vibrant as yours; and he was just as vivacious and introspective. We were kindred spirits for a time."

"You talk like you're damn bloody old," Isaiah teased, though the small Captain could still see the curiosity in his eyes. "What happened to him?" he asked, though with enough softness and deliberation to be respectful.

Strangely, Toshiro didn't feel the need to pause at all. "He died," he answered, his voice equally quiet. "Unfortunately before he and I could really get to know one another. Which is a pity, seeing as I think we would have been marvelous friends." He glanced back to Isaiah, trying to lighten the mood a bit with a joke. "And I _am_ damn bloody old, in spite of how I look."

"You look healthy as a damn horse, that's how you look. That's what confuses me so much," Isaiah said, apparently willing to take Toshiro's short explanation on Ichigo at its face value. He appreciated it; it let him simplify the matter for himself and at least make peace with that small part. "But, to be honest, it's one of the reasons why I wanted to come out and talk to you anyway."

One of Toshiro's snowy brows rose suspiciously. "I thought it was because of the horse."

Isaiah's head bobbed in confirmation. "It was. But it was that and something else about you that I have ulterior motives to be interested in."

"Sounds like a bad pick up line to me," Toshiro said, which got Isaiah to smile a bit, a quirky little think that made a dimple in his cheek appear.

"Maybe," he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. "But maybe it will sound a bit better as a job proposition."

In spite of not even remotely being in the field of looking for a job, Toshiro couldn't tell him that he wasn't interested. Because, frankly, it would be an outright lie. So, he took one last swig of his tea, setting his mug atop the fencepost and re-taking his practice of lavishing Brego's neck with languid strokes. "Go on."

"Well, you see," Isaiah started with a smile, "I don't work at Chico all year round. I'm just one of the winter hands; I actually work at a horse ranch in North Carolina during the summers as a trainer. And, to be honest, the owner of the farm has a great colt that will be coming into racing season this spring. The thing is, we need a jockey. And, seeing as we've combed over the available ones with a comb so fine it could scrape out a flea and not found anything, I've been on the lookout for someone that might fit the bill."

"And you thought I would make a good jockey?" Toshiro said, unable to help his incredulous chuckle. "I'm sorry, but I have no training at all with horses, nor have I any clue how to be a good jockey. Besides, I only have one horse with which to reference any experience at all, and I do have responsibilities to return to." His arguments, though plausible, still sounded weak to his own head.

Isaiah rolled his eyes. "Come on, you'd be perfect for it! What are you, seventy pounds when sopping wet? You're built like a jockey, have a jockey attitude, and already have a good relation with the horse you'd be riding," he said with a wave of his hand. God, the more he spoke, the more Toshiro was reminded of the other ginger from his not so distant past.

Toshiro looked in surprise at the horse leaning into his hand from the other side of the fence before looking back to Isaiah. "You mean _this_ is the colt you plan to race? Why the hell did you bring him out here?"

"Because he's a big damn kid, and he likes to run no matter where it is or what it's through. And I needed to get more time in with him, so I brought him back here with me," he said, before taking another good long look at Toshiro. He would have felt unnerved by a gaze like that, but for some reason it didn't frighten him as much as it probably should have. Because as much as the gaze was penetrating, it was also familiar, and even Hyorinmaru's voice, humming gently in the back of his mind, acknowledged that.

This boy from a country and time entirely his own, somehow, someway, was a kindred spirit in the same way that he and Ichigo had been… could have been.

"Besides," Isaiah said, his eyes leveled so evenly with Toshiro's that the smaller man was able to realize that the hazel in his eyes was accented by an almost teal rather than green, "I can see that you're not able to find a whole lot of reason to go back to that title of yours that's hanging like a tombstone around your neck."

"Aptly put," Toshiro conceded, before settling into silence-shrouded thought for a moment, still absently stroking Brego's neck as the stallion's head rested hovering in the air about his own narrow shoulder. When he looked back at Isaiah, he found that the other had waited patiently for his response. "Yet there are more factors to consider than a spur-of-the-moment proposition can factor in. Let me think it over."

"You should think yes," Isaiah insisted, though a bit teasingly. "I don't know how Brego here would treat me if I let you walk away and leave him here with only me for company. And you really do look like you could do with more than just a vacation, Toshiro. You look like you need something to lift you back up from wherever you've sunk to."

'_He doesn't realize what he's asking of me_,' Toshiro thought to himself, chuckling halfheartedly as Brego nuzzled his shoulder. As tempting as the nonsensical thought was, there was just too much that he would be leaving behind. But then, he realized, perhaps that was why he should agree; he had too much baggage dragging behind him. And hadn't Ichigo told him something similar once? "_Stop carrying around that ball and chain, Toshiro,_" he'd said once in passing. "_It's keeping you from flying._"

He needed to fly again.

Apparently the look he returned to Isaiah was one the young ginger did not expect, as he started rather headily when Toshiro looked back to him. He knew it was stupid, he knew it was rash. He knew it was everything his training as a Captain of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads told him not to do, but he found that he didn't care.

He didn't want to be defined as just a Captain; didn't want to be defined as just another solider with a sword at his side and a power worthy of being formidable. And yet he didn't want to be defined as a jockey either; he just wanted to be recognized as himself. The parts that were the solider, and the parts that were artistic and romantic, and the parts that bled and hurt when people died. That's what he'd been missing all those years; he'd been missing the sense of self existence that Ichigo seemed to give him whenever they were around one another. Isaiah gave him that same feeling; of being perfectly capable of being himself without breaking the laws of the world as they stood.

And he realized, that as a person, regardless of rank or position, he had every right in the world to make decisions for and by himself.

"When will you be heading back to North Carolina?" he asked, and a smile that mirrored a ray of pure sun burst out across the stable-hand's scruffy face.

"Probably about March, if the weather around here ever clears up," he said, sounding conversational and undeniably excited. "You know what they say about Montana; there are really only two seasons: winter and road construction." He was looking at Toshiro hopefully, and Brego's ears were perked forward as if waiting for the smaller man to answer as well.

Toshiro laughed idly. "I've never heard that saying before, but I can see where it could apply. When does the sun set around here during the winter, four o' clock? It's almost absurd," he said, masking his own thoughts with the idle chatter at hand. But the horse at his side was still at attention, awaiting his answer. Damn the big creature for being so perceptive. He looked back to Isaiah, who was wholeheartedly unable to prevent the hopeful gleam from dancing across his eyes. "I'll still need to think about it, but why don't we talk about it over dinner? I'm sure the maitre de could squeeze a chair in for you at my lonely table."

Isaiah laughed amicably, resting his palm against his chin. "You really should tell me your last name," he said with that quirk of a smile still on his lips. The sudden change of topic caught Toshiro off guard, and he looked curiously over at the American for a moment.

"Why?" he asked, sure that his skeptical look was probably more than a bit humorous to look at.

"So I can thank you properly," the trainer replied, his hazel eyes glittering with mischief and just a little bit more. "Just like any good Montanan would do after someone invites them to dinner."

"So it's just a Montanan thing, eh?" Toshiro teased lightly. "And here I thought it was an American thing. I guess I might have some studying up to do if I'm ever to come and race for you. Here I thought I had a good idea of how the American people acted and behaved. You've absolutely squandered my knowledge."

Isaiah was outright laughing by the time Toshiro finished, and even had to wipe away a tea from his eye with a leather-gloved hand. "I'm sure you'll pick up on it nice and quick. Every state is different; each with their own qualities and characteristics. I just know being a Montana native how my Mum taught me to treat people; and it seems to fall into accordance with the way a lot of people behave."

"Oh?" Toshiro was distracted for a moment by Brego's nuzzling of his shoulder. "And what part of Montana are you from?"

"Right smack dab in the middle," he answered, poking the air like he was sticking a pushpin to a map. "The Koppy family has been in Great Falls for a few generations; though we were from Fort Peck before that. So this is pretty far south for me; and North Carolina is even worse." But he winked even after his jibing statement, showing he had really little to no chagrin with the area at all. "There, now you've got my name, Toshiro. But you still haven't given me yours. Care to share?"

He couldn't exactly say no, considering the other man had been kind enough to provide his own name. "Hitsugaya," he answered simply, before speaking again. "So you're Isaiah Koppy, huh? Kind of a unique name from someone from the outlands of the United States' Midwest."

"And you've got a mighty unique name for just another tourist, Mr. Toshiro Hitsugaya," Isaiah said, giving Brego one more heavy pat on the flank before standing up straight again. Something clung to Toshiro after the man had spoken his name, though. In spite of it being in a totally different language than his native Japanese, and in spite of the slight Montanan… annunciation to his words, he was still amazed by how natural it sounded on Isaiah's tongue. So similar to the way he'd heard it before that he was convinced a dose of liquefied déjà vu had been bled into his veins.

"But it still suits ya, I think. And I think I will accept your invitation to dinner graciously, Mr. Hitsugaya, seeing as I am the one trying to coerce you into riding for me." With a dip of his head and a short salute, the ranch hand made to return to the barn. "But now that I'm done sewing dragon's teeth in your head, I had best get back to work. I'll see you tonight."

And with that, Toshiro was left alone once more with only his emptied mug of tea, and the horse still standing resolutely next to him on the other side of the fence. He looked up to the face of the great creature, its deep brown eyes gazing strangely perceptively back down at him as he reached up to comb his fingers through the beast's bangs once more, his fingers grazing over the little white patch on his forehead.

"What do you think?" he asked, unperturbed by how silly he probably looked, talking to a horse. Somehow he felt that the creature understood what he was saying anyway, and would answer in kind.

He was not disappointed when the horse bent its head down, tucking under Toshiro's chin and nuzzling its brow against his chest. Toshiro reached around behind the folded-back ears, smoothing out the black mane now within reach. "Thought so," he muttered, and the horse all but tucked under his chin snorted in response.

After a moment of scratching the horse's neck, Toshiro sighed to himself. "You'd think that after so many years as a Soul Reaper, it would be obvious when spiritual bonds appear, huh?" He stepped back, letting the horse's head rise so they were gazing eye to eye.

"And maybe Isaiah was right," Toshiro said after a moment. "There is another word for the fate that's made itself known here. It's the idea of grace, and an unrequited second chance." He gave the horse one last long stroke on the chin before retrieving his mug and stepping away. The horse's head followed, almost reaching as if trying to get to him. He turned back with a gentle smile, pausing for a moment.

"Don't worry, _Hallaer_. This one knows not to turn his back to grace whenever it comes around," he said.

* * *

-Odd, obscure, and totally random… and yet I still love it. I've had this idea in my head ever since I saw this sitting in my review box. And I know that it was probably nothing like any of you were expecting, but I had fun with it anyway. I have a few notes, just in case some of you were wondering. Brego, of course, is Aragorn's mighty steed from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The phrase "_Din nama is cynglic,_" translates from Elvish to English to mean "Your name is kingly." Just for those of you who haven't seen the films, which you should. Also, the word at the end, _Hallaer_, translates from Elvish to English to mean "tall one". Let's see… what else… oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, this is regarding reincarnation, and the initials IK should matter to you. EDIT: There are two more things you should know. The first is that I totally forgot to explain the word "took" that I used twice in this drabble. It's not describing the past tense version of take, it's actually a Canadian word I grew up with that essentially means a beanie. The "oo" sound is like what you would hear in the word "food" rather than the "oo" from "look". I just used it because I grew up with the term, seeing as my father is still a legal alien from Alberta. Also, secondly, I owe Isaiah's last name to my friend Ink on Ice, who let me actually steal her last name. She's actually going in for re-constructive surgery on her ACL today, and I'm ridiculously worried but wanted to give her something to read when she's back to being sentient. And to thank her for letting me borrow her last name. I think that's about it for now, other than the fact that this is the last official drabble for 200! But… it won't be marked complete just quite yet. I still have one last thing to add, but you'll get to see that in a day or two. Until then, enjoy this technically completed set of 200 IchiHitsu drabbles, and brace yourself for 300, which is next on the list!

8-90s love,

crypto


	20. Drabble 201,2: Provided by cryptonomicon

-These two drabbles are continuations of the storyline I introduced in the 101st drabble from 100 Words I Would Say. I've had several reviewers request continuations, which I had intended to write anyway. But, in appeasement of my beloved readers, I am thus presenting the 201st and 202nd drabbles for 200 Days of Our Lives. Now that these have been posted, 200 Days is now officially complete, and will be marked as such. I apologize to all of you who have been waiting for me to write something; I went home for Spring Break and was distracted by my parents and friends, but then also got a huge kick in the gut from my employer when they told me I didn't have a job for the summer like I thought I did. Thus, for the past week I've been panicking in an attempt to find a job before all the high schoolers do, because if I don't find one, my plans for Sakura-con and for the majority of my summer are shot to hell. So, needless to say, I'm still kind of panicking, and still getting over the tragedy in Japan, which has affected me, my future and prospective careers, and my professor, whom I love dearly, in a very drastic way. I've already donated a small sum of money, blood, and plasma since then, but sitting and watching is very hard to do when you know there are people out there, and over here, hurting over such a huge loss.

* * *

**1: Port**

Ichigo couldn't help the incredulous look on his face in spite of his lingering suspicions. He knew that after a few weeks the Soul Society was bound to check in on their prodigious Captain, and he had been wondering when they would finally come looking for him. But he'd been going through a strange mix of avoiding those thoughts and trying to embrace them when Toshiro talked to him about it that morning over a pot of coffee. Admittedly he hadn't been too subtle about it; perfectly honest as he always was. Open, undemanding, and clear. But to Ichigo, the thought itself was what was bothering him.

Because, in spite of every proclamation he would have denied, he had gotten quite used to the presence of another person in his house.

Well, not even that, he supposed. He'd gotten quite used to _Toshiro's_ presence in his little apartment in Tokyo. He'd acclimated himself to the sound of quiet feet padding down the hall early in the morning as they made their way to the kitchen for a cup of morning tea. He'd gotten used to coming home to the smell of something cooking, and seeing Toshiro's little figure leaning against the counter as he waited for something to boil or warm. He'd also gotten used to coming home from breaks to find the other passed out on his couch for an afternoon cat nap; a habit that his health encouraged, yet didn't necessarily demand, and Ichigo couldn't help but admit it was cute in a kind of humorous way. Especially when considered with his usual behavior, which was a strict regiment of not-so-belligerent yelling and orderly, generally captain-ly things. Which, as far as he knew at that point, never involved heavily dozing against a pillow half his size.

So, the fact was that when Toshiro told him that morning that Urahara had gotten a hold of him, he'd at least come to accept the fact that he didn't want Toshiro to go. Not that he wouldn't be coming back; Toshiro had actually expressed his suspicions about the call being just for a status update on him rather than a status update on the Soul Society's cure for him. But nonetheless, Urahara had asked him to return to Karakura for the weekend at least; so that Captain Unohana could inspect him herself without having the travel time to hassle with.

And that tiny fact, that Toshiro was going to be gone, which bothered him unto no end, was the cause for most of his prominent shock. Which, currently, Toshiro was laughing at for from over the rim of his coffee mug.

"You can't exactly say this wasn't sudden," he griped for a moment, taking a sip of his own sweetened coffee. Toshiro even already knew that he liked Irish Cream creamer; it was almost scary. "Besides, did you think I could let you leave with a clear conscience? You're still torn to shreds and you want to travel all that way by yourself? Toshiro you must be crazy."

The white head bobbed in agreement, but the amused smile never left. "So you've told me before," he said, in that voice that surprised Ichigo every time with how much older it sounded. He hadn't exactly sounded young when they'd first met, but now he sounded legitimately _aged_. And it complimented him in respite, regardless of how much or little Ichigo liked the idea of change. "But that doesn't change the fact that I need to go. And how I get there or in whose company seems to only really matter to you, so I figure you'll be the deciding factor in changing any of the current conditions of my little jaunt," he said, with a bit of a wry tilt to his smile that Ichigo had gotten to know quite intimately over the past few weeks; mostly because he was on the receiving end of it quite a few times.

But his acquaintance with that look didn't change the fact that it still took him a decent amount of time to even figure out what it is that Toshiro had implied with his quickly stated, connotatively heavy words. But that's part of what made him so fun, Ichigo had decided after the first two days; figuring out what the hell it was he actually meant by what he said. And, thankfully for Ichigo, this time he was at least able to construe that the young Captain was implying that if Ichigo was so worried about the trip, he could go and _do _something about it.

So he did.

"Alright then," he'd replied as evenly as he could after a long dreg of coffee that excused him from the amount of time it had taken him to decode Toshiro's jargon. "When are you leaving?" Considering Toshiro had at least had the decency to tell him two days ahead of time, hopes for getting a train ticket were reasonably high. Or so he hoped in the back of his head where the small child anticipating adventure stood jumping up and down with excitement.

"Saturday morning," Toshiro replied. "At about 5 AM."

That was a sucker punch if he'd ever heard one. "Five in the morning?" he repeated with a bit of a growl. He set his coffee cup down on the table rather harshly, making the ceramic piece clink in complaint of the unfair treatment. "Toshiro, you know I don't get off shift until midnight on Friday!"

"So I am aware." He didn't even get a raised eyebrow that time. He must have really been losing his game. "However I was not the one that made the arrangements; Kisuke was. And if I didn't know better I would say that it was a total accident that he scheduled for me to leave so early. But because both you and I know that man has the tendency to know way too much about everything, it can be assumed that my leaving so early was very purposeful." Then, however, one pale eyebrow did rise, if only in response to Toshiro's own thought. "Almost as if he were attempting to keep you from coming. Can't imagine why…"

"Sod it," Ichigo had growled. "I'm coming."

He was barely able to catch the smirk hidden behind Toshiro's mug of black coffee. However, he did managed to catch the "figured as much" that was said mere seconds before Toshiro indulged himself in a swig of the piping confection. When he finished his gulp, however small, he looked back up at Ichigo with an amused look. But, as Ichigo recognized, it was not the generally amused expression that he seemed to wear whenever in his presence, it was the specialized humor that was only available when Ichigo had done, or was in the process of doing something vaguely inane or even outright stupid.

"What?" he asked a bit defensively, suddenly racking his brain to try and think of what exactly he had missed. When he came up unsurprisingly blank, Toshiro humored him with an answer.

"One," Toshiro said, probably deciding to start off simple in order to keep the compounding dread from completely steamrolling his host, "you should probably make the purchase of your train ticket sometime soon; otherwise I will end up going alone." He paused for a moment, as if foolishly holding onto the vain hope that Ichigo would actually remember what it was that he was missing.

Finally, Ichigo had to drag it out of him his own damn self, because obviously the young, sometimes sadistic young Captain had no intention of stopping the entertainment he seemed to get from watching the med-student squirm. "And?"

"Two," Toshiro continued just as lightly, as if he had never once even thought of stopping, "unless you catch the train, you're going to miss your shift as well."

* * *

Ichigo wasn't sure how to feel in the train ride back to Karakura. Admittedly it wasn't a very long one, and the road traveled was not one that was unfamiliar, but he had the strange feeling that he was walking back onto sacred ground: ground that had changed in his absence, and was now ground he had no business being sentimental over. And yet he felt entitled to go back; the city of his birth and the place he still intended to move back to, it still sat like a beacon on every map he ever looked at, as if always beckoning the unheard "welcome home" that the recognition of the place gave.

But as those thoughts trundled through his head, he began to wonder how Toshiro felt about going back to their old stomping grounds. After all, he had, other than perhaps Kisuke and his father, been one of the Captains most frequently posted there for safety and security reasons. He probably knew it like the back of his hand, and it made Ichigo wonder if there was any sentimentality in that knowledge at all. He wondered if Toshiro missed those simple days; back when the world was ending.

Finally, after a good half hour of appreciative, dozy silence between them, he mustered up the courage to actually ask about what his musings just so happened to be musing about.

Toshiro had looked at him almost blearily for a moment, as if confused as to where such a question had come from. But quick as a whip that nebulous thought seemed to clear in his eyes, as if he immediately understood where Ichigo's own wayward train of thought had mistakenly wandered off to.

"I suppose of all the places in the World of the Living I've been to," he started, "Karakura is the one I know best. There are others I have vague recollections of; missions, perhaps, or even memories. But none of them outweigh the time that I spent there. Fighting, laughing, even living in a sense. So, yes. I suppose going back is always a bit sentimental for me." He chuckled to himself for a moment.

"It is for the others too, you know. They long for the days when they could shirk their duties for an afternoon and run away to the beach like we all did that one day. Save for perhaps less genetically modified watermelon, but that was part of what made it so fun in the end." As he spoke Ichigo couldn't help but burst out laughing. He had almost legitimately forgotten about that foregone day spent on the beach. What with Ikkaku's crab incident and the poor dead shark that had been washed ashore, he would have thought it rather hard to forget.

He would have thought it rather hard to forget _any_ of those times, considering how vivid they were; and yet it seemed time still had managed to cleave its wily fingers into his head and slowly pull at what he could and could not remember. So then, the question he'd said only in passing had come to conversation in the forefront:

"How could I have forgotten?"

Toshiro had looked at him sharply for a moment, and he'd gone immediately still for one split moment. It wasn't an angry gaze; not accusing or assuming of anything. It was just brutally clear; far-seeing, and knowing. It had stunned him into stillness; by no real surprise. It probably would have unnerved anyone to have someone, a close friend or otherwise, take a good, long, unwavering, fearless moment to look and actually _see_ you.

"Do you know what scared me the most, Ichigo?" Toshiro had asked him, and in spite the suddenness of the question, Ichigo remained blissfully unperturbed. Mostly because he had the keen awareness that whatever Toshiro had to say about whatever had come to his mind in those wayward moments was relevant to the process of Ichigo getting to know who this young man had turned into.

"What?"

"I don't know how old Head Captain Yamamoto is," he stated bluntly, still keeping his gaze locked with Ichigo's in that hearty, steadfast way that he had the tendency of doing. "I don't know how long I have before I deteriorate into that point of age where humanity no longer matters. Where only protocol matter; and exceptions are something to be punished regardless of whether or not they affect positive change in an already flawed system." When he spoke next, it was he who looked away, his voice suddenly quiet, devoid of conviction, and wavering between being very much afraid, and yet very much angered and frustrated.

"I don't want to be that man, Ichigo. No matter what it takes. And as I watch the years pass by, I feel as if the sands of time are mere seconds away from sweeping me off the doorstep of my own identity and out into a gray unknown where there is _nothing_, I am _nothing_, and all that is on this Earth unto the next is worth _nothing_."

'Relevant indeed,' was all Ichigo could think to himself after he let the words settle in the air around them until finally it seemed the very air itself would not ignite. He could have sworn unto the heavens that he would have had no response to a tirade like that; even though its vehemence had not been directed at him. And yet, the words came to him naturally; as they seemed to with Toshiro most times when things of importance just needed to be said.

"Toshiro, do you remember what I told you before?" he asked, starting slowly if only to not lose himself in his own words. He needed to stay tethered; so both of them could tie and hunker down somewhere safe, and somewhere real. "I said that you and I were at the crossroads; standing staring down the rest of our lives, and that whatever path we chose, the road would be dark. Well now, Toshiro, we're looking at those paths. The crossroads is no longer the issue; it's the way ahead." Toshiro held his gaze, and for that Ichigo was very thankful. "And just as I said before, I'm not too keen on the idea of letting go just yet. So whatever path you choose, whatever wind comes to sweep you off your feet, you can at least know you won't be going alone."

Toshiro was smiling thinly; but there was a genuine peace and happiness behind it that let it remain wan without being worrisome. "So I see," he said, his voice calm and strong again. "And I hope you know that whatever strength I borrow, I will reciprocate to you with every fiber I am yet made of, if you'll so have it."

"Toshiro," Ichigo said with a smile, "I'd take your fibers any day."

**2: Starboard**

If Ichigo had Unohana as his pediatrician when he was young, he was sure that he would have been stone cold dead by age five. He knew that she had the patience and talent of a saint, but Toshiro's "check up" had been anything but what Ichigo had anticipated it to be. He'd expected a short trip at the beginning; the train ride and their conversation on it had been proof enough of that. Even Urahara's welcome, and a visit to his own family while Toshiro was in with Unohana had made it seem like the business would be light and their return to Tokyo swift.

He'd been proven wrong when he returned to Urahara's shop that night to find Captain Unohana predictably gone; having already completed her work. But she'd left a very worse-for-examination Toshiro behind. Apparently she had been making progress on the antidote that was still keeping Toshiro's wound from healing at any reasonably mortal pace; though it was still a "ways off" from being good enough to use on him.

However, she had deemed it pertinent to judge just how much the wound had actually healed, and had thus proceeded to scrub off every inch of scab and scar that Toshiro had to offer until it was spotless, and the wound available for her knowledgeable examination.

He'd come to check back in on Toshiro, with the intending of at least relaying the news that he was most likely going to spend the night with his family; seeing as they were so strapped to see him again after so long. However, his plans immediately changed to staying to make sure Toshiro stayed breathing all night when he got the news from a relatively dour looking Kisuke.

So he'd proceeded to call his father and apologize for the change in plans, and set out his bed roll in the room where Toshiro was sleeping a little less than remotely soundly. He generally looked alright; his wound re-bandaged by Unohana's knowing, yet apparently steely hands. But his breath was a bit short from the pain he was probably in, and his sleep seemed even more restless than usual.

Because, of course, Ichigo had become very familiar with the smaller man's insomnia over the past few weeks when he would wake up to the sound of those feet walking almost soundlessly down the hall. He'd asked Toshiro about it, and had only gotten the answer that the smaller man "never really did sleep well", and a promise to try and be quieter, which was unnecessary but appreciated nonetheless.

But the fact was that he was still uncomfortably asleep, and Ichigo's intent was to keep him that way, and perhaps give him a bit of peace of mind with a friendly spiritual pressure close by.

After the long hours of the night had wound a bit too far around the clock, the rest of the lights in the house went out. Tessai had come into check on them one last time, and Ichigo had assured him that the windows were still shut, and his gikongan pills close at hand if need be. Satisfied, the behemoth had shut the door with a surprising gentleness, and the house had settled into silence.

And in spite of the fact that Toshiro's once stiff breathing had opened up some into an actually easy sleep breathing pattern, Ichigo still found himself concerned. Not over Toshiro's health directly; that was a can of worms he had no intention of getting into, in spite of his career choice.

What he found himself worried about most was what he and Toshiro had discussed on the train. And perhaps not even that; all the topics they'd covered had come to peaceable, resolute conclusions, and left little to be wanted or missed should they never be brought up again. Rather, what Ichigo was worrying himself over was the fact that Toshiro was being almost uncharacteristically open; even for this "changed" person he had become. He'd told Ichigo once that his priorities had been rearranged; and that had been made blaringly clear by his words about Head Captain Yamamoto. But Ichigo couldn't help but find himself wondering just how far that went.

And, if Toshiro seemed to be so inclined to not wanting to let himself sink unto those things, if he would be willing to consider options that Captaincy couldn't allow him. Which, in the broad strokes, was quite a lot of things. But Ichigo was less inclined to push that on the younger man than he was to go give Aizen a Valentine's Day card, hand-delivered down in the cells beneath the Soul Society where he was being "housed".

Because he didn't want to be that wind that Toshiro had spoken of that would push him off the doorstep of his own identity and off into the gray void of not being someone you knew anymore. He wanted Toshiro to remain Toshiro; whoever that person had developed into and would develop into in the future. He wanted to see where Toshiro's path would take him; and be alongside him every step of the way, because, as it seemed, many of their steps were similar, and their lives, though unique, of an almost identical cut and make.

He fell asleep on those thoughts; not realizing that he'd curled up and rested his head on a good patch of Toshiro's stomach, comfortable in the fact that he at least knew there would be one morning more where he would have the opportunity to match pace with the young Captain.

* * *

-These might be rushed, delayed, and incomplete, but they are what they are for now. Mostly I'm okay with leaving them like this because they will continue on later. And because I'm tired, want to go to bed, and have to get B2B done and up by Sunday. Haha, I know, right? Very funny; gotta haul ass for the next three days to do it, because I want to try to write the first chapter of My Darkness Are You Lonely on the last few days of March next week so I can still be on schedule in spite of slacking over Spring Break. Anyways, 200 is now officially done, and I will see you guys soon with other various updates, one of them eventually being the first set of the 300! Till then, biffles. Peace off.

8-90s love,

crypto


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